


The White Winds

by Tikatu



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Boarding School, Brothers, Canon - Movie, Family, Friendship, Gen, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Rescue, Track & Field
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikatu/pseuds/Tikatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another boring year at Wharton for Alan and Fermat ... or is it? Originally posted at fanfiction.net, cleaned up for posting here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unpleasant Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Never, ever thought I'd be doing this, writing a movie-verse fic. Most of the places are real, but Wharton and Tracy Island are not. Neither is Silas James Wharton of pioneer fame ... I hope. But here it is. I hope you like it. Thanks to my late friend, Hobbeth, for betareading.
> 
>  _Disclaimer:_ I don't own the canon characters. Gerry and Sylvia Anderson created them; Universal and Working Title Films made the movie. I'm just writing about them. Please do not copy, print, or hyperlink this fiction without my express written or verbal consent. I may be reached at my email of record. _Any and all original characters are mine and may not be used without my express written consent._

"Nestled in the Berkshires just west of Mount Greylock is the tiny town of New Ashford, where you will find one of the most exclusive boys' schools in the world, Wharton Academy. Established in 1875, it is named after Silas James Wharton of pioneer fame ... You will find that the courses at Wharton will challenge your youngster to fulfill his academic potential, while providing an environment to stimulate his thirst for learning and help him develop a keen sense of fair play ... yeah, right."

Alan Tracy tossed the brochure he'd picked up at the admissions office into the nearest trash can. He was on his way back out of the main office building after checking in for another year of school at Wharton. It looked to be a boring one, especially when compared to the most soul-satisfying summer he had ever known. His father, billionaire ex-astronaut Jeff Tracy, had allowed him to begin training for the most elite and secret rescue organization on the face of the planet, International Rescue. He was a Thunderbird now. A Thunderbird in training, that much was true, but a Thunderbird nonetheless.

"H-H-Hey, Alan!" Fermat Hackenbacker, Alan's best friend and fellow trainee, waved his arms frantically over his head. Alan redirected his footsteps in Fermat's direction. Standing by the limousine was Alan's father, Jeff, and his next-oldest brother, Gordon. They were looking over the campus map with Fermat's father, Hiram, otherwise known as "Brains".

Jeff smiled as Alan approached them. "So, what dorm are you in this year?" 

"Chetwood." Sighing, Alan handed over the paperwork that the office had given him.

Hiram and Jeff exchanged frowns. "Ch-Ch-Chetwood?" Hiram's stutter made it difficult for him to pronounce the word. "F-F-F, my son is in M-Maplewood."

"I thought we specified that you two were to room together." Jeff's initial frown quickly became a scowl. "I'd better look into this. C'mon, Alan, Fermat." With that, the rangy multi-billionaire strode off, Alan and Fermat hurrying to catch up.

"I sh-sh-sh.. ought to go, t-too," Hiram told Gordon as he set off in the wake of the threesome.

Gordon shrugged and climbed back into the limo. Pulling out his personal music player, he slipped on his earphones. Within minutes he was playing air drums with his favorite band.

"I'm Jeff Tracy and I'd like to see the person in charge of housing," Jeff said politely. The secretary offered the men a seat before paging the director on the phone and telling him that Mr. Tracy wanted to see him. Now, usually the Tracy name carried a lot of weight and people stumbled all over themselves to be of service to the decorated astronaut. But someone, it seemed, had forgotten to tell the director of student housing just _who he was_. For a good twenty minutes, the group cooled their heels, reading the wholesome boys' magazines--several of them defaced with interesting graffiti inside--scattered throughout the waiting room.

Finally, the director came out. A tall thin woman, she wore her graying hair pulled back severely from her face and gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck. Dressed in a conservative navy skirt and school blazer, she looked down her thin nose through a pair of slightly tinted glasses at the men and boys gathered outside. Jeff, always polite, rose to his feet. Hiram followed suit.

The director gave them both a tight-lipped smile before extending a cool, thin hand. "Mr. Tracy, I am Mrs. Belvedere, director of student affairs, including housing. Please come into my office."

"This is my associate, Professor Hiram Hackenbacker," Jeff said, indicating the rumpled scientist. "His son is involved in this situation as well."

"Indeed." Mrs. Belvedere extended a hand to Hiram who, looking rather flustered, took it. "Please, gentlemen. This way."

"Boys," Jeff said, packing a load of warning into the word. "We'll be right back." He and Hiram disappeared into the office as the director closed the door behind them.

Alan sighed and nudged Fermat. "Whattaya wanna bet that my dad has us rooming together within ten minutes?"

Fermat raised an eyebrow behind his blue-rimmed glasses. "I'd say it would take him ... f-f-fifteen."

"Fifteen? Are you out of your gourd?" Alan exclaimed, incredulous. "No way!"

"Are you g-g-going to put your money where your m-m-mouth is?" Fermat said slyly, nudging Alan back.

"Ten bucks."

"Only t-t-ten? You don't have m-m-much faith in your f-f-f ... dad, do you?"

"Okay. Ten bucks ... and the loser cleans the bathroom for the next month."

Fermat stuck out a pudgy hand. "Done."

The boys didn't notice the time as they flipped through the magazine with the most interesting graffiti, their heads bent together as they chuckled over it. Suddenly, the door to Mrs. Belvedere's office opened. Jeff walked out, still scowling, a frowning Hiram following in his wake. The two boys looked up. Alan gave a quick glance to his watch. _Twenty-five minutes!_ Shocked at how long it had taken his father to deal with the problem, he didn't hear his father speak.

Jeff turned to Mrs. Belvedere, who stood at the door. "The board of directors will be hearing from me."

"A-a-and from m-m-me," echoed Hiram. He turned to the boys, "C'mon, F-F-F ... s-s-s ... c'mon boys." He put a hand on the shoulder of a puzzled Fermat to guide him out of the waiting area.

"Alan," Jeff called sharply.

Alan nodded, falling into line behind his father, before edging over to walk next to Jeff.

"So? Did you get it straightened out?"

"No," Jeff huffed as they left the building, heading to the limo.

Alan halted in his tracks. "No? What do you mean 'no'? I mean, wasn't it some kind of mistake?"

"N-n-n-no, Alan." Hiram turned to face him. Fermat stopped climbing into the limo, shooting a puzzled frown at his father. "Mrs. B-B-B ... that woman had arguments for s-s-se ... splitting you up."

Alan folded his arms over his chest. "Like what?".

Jeff glanced at his son standing there, noting how his folded arms and planted feet screamed anger and defiance. He sighed heavily. "Get into the car, son. We can talk about it there."

Alan hesitated for a second before dropping his arms and following Fermat into the limo. Hiram and Jeff ducked in behind them.

Gordon looked up at the solemn group. "So, what happened, Dad?"

"I wasn't able to accomplish much." Jeff scowled, shaking his head. The older Tracy instructed the driver to take them to the dormitory square. He sat on the edge of the smooth leather seat and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, hands dropping loosely between his legs. He took a short breath before continuing. "Mrs. Belvedere thinks that splitting you up would be good for both of you..."

Both boys started to protest, but Jeff stopped them with a motion of his hand. "Let me finish. Alan, she thinks that without Fermat for you to 'lean on' academically, you'd have to put forth a better effort of your own. She also feels that Fermat would be better off without your ... 'dubious influence' is the phrase she used."

"Sh-Sh-She thinks that Alan is a bad influence on you, s-s-son." Hiram put a hand on Fermat's shoulder, his tone soft. "She th-thinks you'd do better with someone of your own a-a-a ... scholastic level."

"What? Alan a 'dubious influence'?" Gordon grinned, ruffling his brother's blond hair. "She doesn't know the half of it, does she, Sprout?"

Alan batted him away irritably. "Get off, Gordon! And don't call me 'Sprout'!" He turned to his father. "She just doesn't see it, does she?" Alan's scowl matched his father's though his tone indicating his disgust. "There's more involved than just influence and academics."

"Y-Y-Yeah!" Fermat glanced from his friend to his father. "We're friends and we sh-share a common s-s-secret. There's no one else I can t-t-t ... converse with about you and your work, Dad."

"Same here, Dad. Sometimes I'm so excited about what you are doing I've got to talk to someone about it or just bust!" Alan explained, his scowl morphing into an earnest frown.

Jeff smiled a little. "I guess I can understand that."

Fermat nodded as he glanced over at Jeff Tracy. "Plus there's the protection ..."

"Protection? From what?" Jeff asked, suddenly concerned and puzzled. "Why do you need protection?"

Alan nudged Fermat. "You weren't supposed to tell them, sport." He faced his father, sighing. "When Fermat first came here, he was the target of a lot of teasing and abuse. Being so young and so smart, y'know."

"Don't forget the s-s-stutter," Fermat piped up. "Alan stuck up f-for me. K-K-Kept the bullies away."

Gordon smirked. "Yup. Sounds like our Alan. Always spoiling for a fight." Alan swatted his brother; Gordon put up both hands in a protective gesture, grinning.

Hiram frowned. "Why didn't you s-s-s... speak up, son?"

"I was a-a-af ... scared you'd take me away from here. Send me to a school where I would kn-kn-kn ... have no friends at all."

"Hmm. You're p-p-pr ... most likely right, son," Hiram admitted, nodding.

"Why couldn't you change this, Dad?" Alan pleaded.

"Because the woman thinks she has power, that's why." Jeff put a fatherly hand on Alan's shoulder. "Don't worry, son. I'm going over her head on this one."

"Heh. She's gonna know not to mess with Jeff Tracy, isn't she, Dad?" Gordon said smugly.

"If I have anything to say about it, yes."

Alan clenched his fists. "Why can't you just pull us from Wharton? I'm sure at another school ..."

Jeff shook his head firmly. "It's too late in the year to think about another school. It would be a tremendous hassle to find one with an opening at this point, and you and Fermat would end up being behind in your classes. Besides, I think I can sway the board of directors at their meeting next month."

"Next month?" Fermat's eyes widened, while Alan's jaw dropped.

The limo stopped; Jeff looked out the tinted window, noting they had parked in front of Maplewood dormitory. "Listen, boys. You're going to have to make the best of it for now. I'll get it straightened out as soon as I can. Trust me on this." He smiled at the two boys. "Can you tough it out for a month?"

Alan sighed, a sullen pout on his face. "I guess we can ... for a month."

"Fermat?" Hiram prompted softly.

"Yes, Mr. Tracy. I'll m-m-make the best of it. For now." The younger boy looked glum.

"Well, here's Maplewood. We'd better get you unpacked and settled, Fermat." Jeff tried to sound positive.

Alan climbed out after his friend. "C'mon, sport." He laid a hand on Fermat's shoulder. "It won't be that bad. We'll still meet for lunch and dinner and stuff. Plus we can still study together."

"And it's o-o-only for a month, right?" Fermat turned to Alan and held out his fist.

"Right!" Alan grinned, touching his own fist to his friend's.


	2. Unpacking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you all know, this fic focuses on Alan and Fermat and their time at Wharton after the movie. But don't worry, the rest of the family will weigh in as well. Thanks to Hobbeth for betareading.

Fermat was pleased to find he was the first occupant of his room to arrive. "Means I can t-t-t ... have the lower bunk!" He slung his heavy backpack, filled with the books he and his father had purchased, onto the aforementioned bed.

"Third f-f-f ... story! Good thing there's an el-el-el ... lift!" Brains huffed as if out of breath, smiling at his son's obvious pleasure.

"Whew! I agree! I'd hate to have to climb those stairs everyday ... several times a day!" Gordon pulled a luggage float behind him, piled with boxes of Fermat's belongings. Most of the other boys in the dorm were waiting for the maintenance men to help them with their bags.

Jeff had shaken his head in disbelief at the pampered ones; he had always taught his sons to do as much as they could for themselves, a habit he knew would hold them in good stead all of their lives. So, he sent Gordon and Alan out in search of something to carry the heavier things while helping Brains and Fermat unload the trunk of the limo. The driver offered to help, too; Jeff accepted the offer. Together they sorted out the individual boxes, after which the driver carefully put Alan's things back in the trunk.

The spacious room held a desk for each of the two students who would be living there, as well as two armoire-style wardrobes. Gordon and Alan helped Fermat put away his clothes and linens in the armoire's drawers and shelves, hanging up what needed it and neatly laying out Fermat's footwear on the floor of the closet portion. While they worked, Jeff made Fermat's bed, tucking in the sheets and blankets with military precision. When he was done, he glanced around and, seeing everyone else occupied, took a coin from his pocket, dropping it on the bed. It bounced. Satified, he smiled and started to unload the books.

In the meantime, Brains was piecing together the parts of Fermat's computer. A laptop/desktop combination, it was one of the best on the market, but was enhanced with Hiram Hackenbacker's unique and efficient upgrades. The main component of the computer, the laptop, could be easily disconnected from the screen and the stationary CPU for mobile work. When plugged into the rest of the outfit, the computer's processing power increased tenfold. The screen, a thin, flat plasma model, was easy on Fermat's diminished vision. On this special model, they were beta testing a wireless modem which connected the computer's hidden, tertiary hard drive directly to Thunderbird Five, using a dizzying series of major and minor satellites to bounce the signal around the globe. Brains unconsciously hummed while he worked; he loved the challenge of fitting the puzzle pieces of technology together. Suddenly, he was struck with a thought. He glanced over at his son, and then at Jeff.

"G-G-Gordon? Close the door, please?"

Jeff could hear the seriousness in his chief engineer's tone. "What's wrong, Brains?"

"I-I-I just realized something. The boys aren't g-g-g... won't be able to use th-th-the new drive."

Jeff frowned. "Hmm. You're right. If the two of you were rooming together, it wouldn't be a problem. But since you're going to have roommates that know nothing about our operations ..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "You can't use the hidden drive."

Alan huffed out a breath, frustrated. "Aw, Dad! That's not fair! We want to know what's going on when you're on a mission!"

"We'd be really c-c-careful. Use it only when n-no one else was around," Fermat chimed in.

The two fathers exchanged glances and both shook their heads. "N-N-No, son. It's much t-t-t... it's risky."

Gordon suddenly spoke up. "Hey, look at it this way." Everyone turned his way. "It's one more reason to get the two of you rooming together again. Add it to the list, Dad."

Jeff snorted a chuckle. "It's not a reason I'll be able to share with the board of directors, but it's one I'll keep in mind. C'mon, let's finish up here and get Alan moved in."

The five got back to work. Before they knew it, all of Fermat's belongings were unpacked and put away. He looked around his room, still half-bare since his roommate had not yet arrived, yet feeling a bit more like home.

"The c-c-computer tests out fine, son." Brains waved his son over to the desk. "You'd b-b-b ... time to shut it down."

Fermat joined his father, sitting in the ergonomic chair they'd brought especially for him. He began shutdown procedures. When asked for a password, he typed in something rather long. Brains smiled at him knowingly. He knew his son's mind and where it would be when not focused on studies: Tracy Island with the magnificent Thunderbirds. The computer shut down with a slightly saucy, "Goodbye, Fermat!" startling the boy, but putting a slow grin on both Gordon's and Alan's faces. The voice was that of Tin-Tin Belegant, their friend and daughter of Jeff's servants, Kyrano Beleghant, and his wife, Onaha.

For the first time, Tin-Tin was going away to school, too, but in England, close to Jeff's good friend and International Rescue agent, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. She promised to keep an eye on the girl. Alan sighed. His grin faded as he thought of Tin-Tin. They'd been training together over the summer and had the adventure of a lifetime defeating her uncle and Jeff's nemesis, Trangh Belegant, also known to police as the Hood. Alan knew English schools ran on different timetables than American ones, so he and Fermat couldn't count on seeing her at home when they had vacations from school. The next time they would all be together again would be Christmas, which seemed a lifetime away.

Jeff looked around with satisfaction. "I think we're done here." He turned to his youngest son. "Alan, it's your turn."

The five men left the room, and Fermat put his palm up to the door's locking device, keying in the code he had memorized. "W-W-Wait a minute." He grabbed Alan by the hand. "I want to program this to accept your input." He glanced over at Brains. "Y-Yours, too, Dad. Never know when it might be useful."

Alan grinned, putting his hand up to the palm print scanner. Students were allowed to program two people other than themselves into their door locks. Fermat was good at programming anything; getting the lock mechanism's silicon brain to accept first Alan's, then Hiram's palm prints was the work of a few moments. "There. N-Now you can get in any time."

Jeff smiled, patting Fermat on the shoulder. "Good choice. Now, let's find Chetwood."

"Huh. My roommate's already here." Alan's assigned room was located on the first floor. The lower bunk was made, an armoire was full, and a laptop computer sat closed on a desk. Alan shrugged; he'd had the top bunk rooming with Fermat the previous year. Jeff found making his son's bed a bit more of a challenge than Fermat's, but in the end the coin bounced. The drill was the same for Alan's things as it had been for Fermat's with the exception of a sleek, compact sound system. Brains tested it thoroughly, setting volume and bass levels so the previous year's major complaint-music played too loud-would be eliminated. Alan didn't mind; he figured he and Fermat could get around Brains's lockouts. Gordon put the system together, muttering how he wished he'd owned something that nice when _he_ went to Wharton. Jeff grinned but otherwise paid him no heed.

Once Alan's room was done, the little group left. Alan asked Fermat to scan his handprint in the door's lock, and for the first time since his enrollment at Wharton, Alan wanted his father's handprint logged. 

"I know I've usually given access to another friend." Alan rubbed the back of his neck, giving Jeff a sheepish look. "It's just ... well, it turns out family means more to me than I thought it did."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, son." Jeff put his hand up to the plate. The scanner's light ran up and down his hand; he entered a password was unlikely to forget. Alan completed the process with his own password, leaving the small group in the hall without much to say.

"How about dinner in town?" Jeff suggested. "One last good meal before we leave you to the rigors of cafeteria food?"

"Sounds great to me." Gordon smacked his father's shoulder. "Afterwards, we can take them to the store for snacks and drinks to tide them over ... for about an hour or so."

Brains and Fermat both chuckled. Alan playfully swatted his older brother. "Sounds good to me, too, if only to satisfy this bottomless pit here."

"Bottomless pit? _Moi?_ I'm crushed!" Gordon raised the back of his hand to his forehead in a dramatic motion.

Alan swatted him again, while Jeff smiled, shaking his head. "C'mon, boys. Let's eat before the day gets any later. We _do_ have a sizeable trip back home, you know."

"R-R-R ... yes, we do." Brains draped an arm across his son's shoulders. "And I'm st-st-st ... hungry."

With that, they returned to the limo, where Jeff gave the driver directions to a restaurant Jeff knew from his many visits to Wharton.

* * *

It was nearing curfew when the boys returned to campus. They stopped first at Chetwood, intending to let Alan off first. As they approached the doors, Jeff paused, handing each boy the latest in satellite cell phones. 

"Here are your phones," he said. "Call anytime, son, and I mean that. Email is okay, but we like to hear your voice, too."

"I will, Dad. Promise."

"And, Fermat, d-d-don't lose it," Brains cautioned. "I expect to h-h-hear from you on a r-r-r ... often."

"I'll t-take care of it, Dad."

"Here's another piece of equipment for you." Jeff gave them each a stylish watch. "Something else we're beta testing. It's a communicator which puts you in contact with certain people in ... ahem ... high places. But I warn you both; it's only to be used in extreme emergencies. The red button on the side will signal us you're in trouble. It has GPS capabilities, too, so we'll know where you are, anywhere in the world." He wagged a finger at both boys. "Wear it at all times and remember: extreme emergencies only!"

"Right, Dad." Alan strapped the watch to his wrist, his blue eyes shining. Fermat nodded eagerly, happy to be given such a cool piece of tech.

"Now, let's get you inside, Alan."

Brains said his goodbyes to Alan and returned to the limo with Fermat. Jeff and Gordon walked Alan to his room, Gordon carrying one bag of goodies and Alan the other. They paused before the door to Alan's quarters, dropping the bags of groceries there. Father and son embraced, while Gordon gave his brother a friendly poke in the arm, before pulling him into a brief hug.

"I'll miss you guys." Alan's voice was soft.

Gordon tousled his brother's hair. "Ditto, Sprout." 

Alan didn't even protest the name this time. They stood in a suddenly awkward silence, until Alan spoke.

"You'd better go. Get Fermat settled."

"Right. Come on, Gordon." Jeff turned to go, gathering Gordon up with him.

"Hey, let me know when you get home!" Alan called out as they walked away.

Jeff glanced over his shoulder. "We will. Take care, son."

"Right. Goodbye, Dad." Once they were out of sight, Alan sighed. He pulled the groceries into his room, setting them by the small refrigerator. There was no sign of his roommate's return. He glanced around the room, sighed again, and put his goodies away in the fridge.

At Maplewood, Jeff accompanied Brains and Fermat up to the third floor. Gordon ruffled the boy's hair as he got out of the limo. "Take care, sport."

"I-I will, Gordon."

Now it was time to say goodbye to Jeff and to his father. "You take good care of yourself, F-F-Fermat. And c-c-c ... phone me whenever you want, o-okay?"

"I will, Dad." The two embraced, a long, tight hug that both were loath to break. When they did, Jeff added a quick hug of his own and ruffled Fermat's hair as Gordon had.

"Take care of Alan for me, Fermat."

Fermat smiled. "I will, sir. I promise."

Brains waggled his fingers as the elevator doors closed. "Bye, son."

Fermat returned the gesture. "Bye, Dad."

Alone in the hall, he swallowed and sniffed, before turning back to his room. He unlocked his door, hauling his bags of snacks inside. Quickly glancing around, his eyes widened in shock. He dropped the bags, spilling his treats across the floor as he exclaimed, "Hey! Wh-What do you think you're doing!"


	3. Unexpected Situations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, who is in Fermat's room? And who will Alan's new roomie be? Questions to be answered in this chapter!

The slight, dark-haired boy jumped up from Fermat's chair as if bitten, sending the chair rolling backwards. He swept Fermat up and down with his dark brown eyes, noticing the thick glasses, the tanned complexion, and the angry look on Fermat's face. For his part, Fermat noticed the slim build and equally thin, pale face, now flushed with embarrassment and possibly anger. The two stood still for a moment as they sized each other up, before Fermat spoke.

"W-Well? You haven't answered my qu-qu-question."

The stranger moistened his lips with his tongue, glancing quickly around the room before returning to meet Fermat's glare. "I was just admiring your computer set up, that's all."

Fermat gathered the stray snacks, putting them back in his bag before hauling them to his desk. He snagged the chair from the middle of the floor with a foot and drew it back. The computer was powered up; he scowled at the asterisks which indicated a password typed into the sign-on screen. "More that j-just admiring it, I see."

The stranger folded his arms. "Well, I wanted to see what it could do."

 _Yeah, right._ "And you d-didn't realize it w-would be password p-p-protected?" Fermat retorted. He shut the computer down, making a mental note to find a way to lock it up. Turning around, his eyes widened as he saw his blankets and sheets piled in a heap on the top bunk.

"Hey! Why'd you do that?" He jumped to his feet, waving an arm at the mess. "I had f-first dibs on the b-b-b ... lower bunk! Just who the h-h-h ... just who d-do you think you are?"

The dark haired boy pulled himself to his full, slight height, lifting his chin with defiance and pride. "I am Andrew John Trumbull. Who are you?"

"My name is F-F-Fermat Hackenbacker."

"Hackenbacker? I've never heard of any Hackenbackers in the elite. And what kind of name is Fermat?"

"It's the name of a f-f-f ... eminent French m-m-mathematician."

"Oh. Who wants to be named after some moldy old mathematician?" The smaller boy raised an eyebrow and declared with pride. "I'm a descendent of the famous John Trumbull."

Fermat glared at him through his glasses before asking, a challenge in his voice, "The artist?"

Andrew John Trumbull huffed, trying to sneer, "No. The poet."

Fermat knew he'd scored a hit. He raised an eyebrow, giving a slight, audible sniff. "Oh, _him_. We spent a d-day or so st-st-studying him in American Literature last y-year. He was one of the C-C-Connecticut Wits."

"Last year? What kind of elementary school teaches American Literature?"

Fermat's eyes narrowed. He had endured a lot of teasing about his age-among other things-when he first came to Wharton, teasing that tapered off once the other boys knew that he was under the protection of the scrappy Alan Tracy. _Alan's not here, now. Not like he was last year. I guess now's the time for me to learn to fight my own battles._

He picked up his grocery bags, moving them closer to the small refrigerator. When he opened it, he muttered a low, inaudible curse. Almost every shelf was already filled with cans of soda and packages of treats. Fermat began shoving them aside to make room for his own things. As he worked, he replied, "To answer your question, I didn't st-st-st ... learn about him in elementary school. American L-L-Literature is a required course for fr-freshmen here."

"Just what is that supposed to mean?"

Fermat looked up at Andrew John Trumbull and replied coolly, "It m-m-means that I'm a sophomore." Before the other boy could make the obvious comment, he added, "And I don't m-m-mean a 'wise f-f-fool', either." He finished shoving his food into the refrigerator. "Now, about the sl-sl-sleeping arrangements ..." He turned to find Andrew James Trumbull sitting on the lower bunk, buttoning up his pajama top.

The boy looked up at him with a smug smile. "I'm sorry, but I don't 'do' bunk beds. I'm afraid you'll have to sl-sl-sleep up there." He mimicked Fermat's stutter as he indicated the upper berth with a jerk of his head.

"You'll r-r-regret it." Fermat pointed to his glasses. "I don't w-wear my glasses to b-b-bed. So, if I wake up, m-my depth perception is b-b-b ... not good, and I tend to fall out of upper b-b-b ... levels."

"Just don't wake me up when you do." The other boy lay down and curled up, pulling his covers over his head.

 _Not wake you up? Yeah, right. If I fall out of bed, you're going to **know** about it, buster!_ Fermat promised himself. He huffed out a breath, shaking his head. Pulling the extra desk chair to the bed's side, he made his bunk, not caring about being quiet or considerate, hurrying as he realized lights out was soon approaching. At last the sheets and blankets were in place, though not to the military preciseness that Jeff had originally achieved. Fermat descended quickly, moving to his wardrobe to get his pajamas.

He snagged his sweatpants and t-shirt, heading for the _en suite_ bathroom just as a masculine voice proclaimed, "Lights out in five minutes." Feeling harried, he changed clothes, stuffing his dirty things into a mesh laundry bag, one of two hanging behind the bathroom door. Once he accomplished his nightly routine, he hurried back into the bedroom. He slipped off his glasses, laying them gently on the desk. His world turned into the familiar, disturbing fuzziness of his unaugmented vision. As he scaled the bed's ladder to his bunk, he grumbled beneath his breath. Alan had perfected a running jump landed him to the top bunk without banging head or body on bed or ceiling. Right then, Fermat desperately wished he could do the same; between his bad vision and shorter legs, it was a lost cause. Besides, he hadn't needed such a cool technique until now.

He managed to keep from banging his head on the ceiling, and reached his mattress when the room suddenly went dark. Startled, he straightened. "Ow!"

A barely-stifled snicker rose from below. Rubbing his head and muttering curses under his breath, he wriggled his way between the sheets. As he tossed and turned, he thought, _Just wait, Andrew John Trumbull. You'll find Fermat Hackenbacker is not a man to be trifled with._

* * *

The tall teen stopped dead still in the doorway as it slid open. One of his friends peered over his shoulder and groaned.

"You are so screwed, Sugi. You've got Tracy for a roomie!"

Alan looked up from his computer game, blinking in surprise. He slowly removed his earphones. "You're my roommate?"

Sugi pulled back to look at the room number, as if not believing he was in the right place. He stepped into the room, shaking his head. "How'd I end up with you, Tracy? Why aren't you rooming with your little friend, Hackenbacker?"

"Ms. Belvedere split us up." Alan was surprised. Lee Sugimoto was one of the school's top athletes. A senior, he was on the basketball, track, and golf teams and was captain of the year's soccer lineup. On top of that, he was a good student, and popular. Very popular.

Lee's friend gave him a mocking grin and a playful nudge with his elbow. "Maybe she wants you to reform him."

"Shut it, Mackenzie." Lee looked around before studying Alan for a moment. "Glad to see you took the upper bunk."

Alan shrugged. "You were here first. And I'm used to it."

Mackenzie nudged Sugimoto again. "C'mon, Lee. We've got a few more minutes before lights out. Let's play some poker."

Lee turned to him. "Not tonight. I'm tired and I report to the coach at six. See you later, okay?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Besides, I need to lay down a few ground rules to my new roomie here."

"Okay, man. Talk to you in the a.m." The two older teens touched closed fists and Mackenzie left.

Lee stood there for a moment, looking Alan up and down again. Alan sat still, returning the gaze before puttting his earphones back in, prepared to return to his game.

"Hey, Tracy!"

Alan pulled the earphones off again. "Yeah?"

"Rule number one: don't hog the bathroom or the fridge."

Alan shrugged. "Okay."

"Rule number two: stay out of my stuff and keep your friends out of my stuff, too. If you need something, ask first."

"That's cool."

Lee frowned. From Alan's reputation the year before, he figured the boy would put up a stink. "Rule number three: knock before you come in."

"I'll do that for you if you'll do the same for me." Alan reckoned Lee expected some reaction from him; he decided to show this big man on campus he was cool.

Lee frowned again. "I suppose that's fair enough. Who do you have programmed in?"

"Fermat and my dad. Not that I'll be seeing much of my dad, but Fermat's okay. He won't touch your stuff. You?"

"Mackenzie and Lewis."

"Just do me a favor? Keep them out of my computer, will you?" Alan gestured towards the item in question.

"Okay. I can do that. Rule number four: anything you see going on in here is private. You don't tell a soul."

Alan sat back and folded his arms. "Why? Do you do illegal stuff?"

"No," Lee shot back. "But sometimes ... let's just say that sometimes there are things going on that the administration would frown on. From what I've heard, you understand all about that." He finally stepped over to his wardrobe. As he pulled out his sleepwear, he asked, "Why'd the admins split you and Hackenbacker up, anyway?"

"Not that it's any of your business or anything, but Belvedere told my dad she thinks I'm a 'dubious influence' on Fermat and I lean on him academically." As Alan put his earphones back in, he shot a glance at the taller boy, realizing how much his new roommate sounded like Scott.

"Hey, I was just curious." Lee took his clothes to the bathroom, but stopped before entering. "You _can_ keep quiet, can't you, Tracy?"

Alan nodded. "As long as it's not illegal, I can keep my mouth shut." _I know what keeping secrets is all about._

"Good. This might not be so bad after all." Leee entered the bathroom and shut the door.

Alan took advantage of Lee's absence to change into sweatpants and t-shirt. Slinging his sneakers to the floor of his wardrobe, he wadded up his dirty clothes, laying the tight pile on his desk until Lee came out.

"It's all yours." Lee hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "We can talk tomorrow about who cleans what and when."

"Sure." Alan took his turn in the bathroom. He stuffed the dirty clothes into the empty bag on the back of the door before performing his usual bedtime routine. The five minute warning sounded just he left the lavatory. Lee was already in bed, thumbing through a sports magazine.

 _Time to dazzle him,_ Alan thought. He moved over to the far corner of the room, near the door. Getting a running start, he leaped into the air. Startled, Lee poked his head out as Alan's body left the ground, landing with a thump in the bed above him. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, trying to figure out exactly how the younger boy had made that leap. As the lights went out, he called up to his new roommate.

"Hey, Tracy!"

"Yeah?"

"You ever think of trying out for track and field?"

* * *

"Damn!"

"Wha?" came a sleepy voice from the bottom bunk.

Fermat cradled his left arm in his right, biting his lower lip and fighting back tears of pain. Just as he feared, he'd fallen from the top bunk, half asleep. He'd probably have landed on his head except somehow, somewhere, rudiments of the martial arts training Scott Tracy had drilled into him came to the fore. He'd twisted, slamming his arms down to take the brunt of the fall. The jarring shock burned up and down his arms like electricity, leaving the nerves buzzing from the sudden, violent jolt. He'd rolled over, coming to a sitting position while closing his eyes against the disorientation. He swore audibly when it became evident something was very wrong with his left arm.

"G-G-Get up!" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"Why?" Andrew's whine told Fermat his new roommate had turned over and away from him.

"Because, d-d-dumbass, I think I've b-b-b ... fractured my arm! You're going to g-g-g ... fetch the hall monitor."

He heard the covers rustle before a foot stuck out, nearly smacking him in the face. "Oh, all right. Where's this stupid hall monitor anyway?"

Fermat tried to remember where the hall monitor's single room was located on that floor. "Turn right when you go out our d-d-door ... four doors down, there'll be a s-s-sign ..."

He said nothing more because Andrew John Trumbull was already gone. Fermat shifted, hissing with pain as he put the lower bunk at his back to support him. It seemed an eternity before the door slid open again. A tall youth of obvious Indian extraction walked in. He put a key into a slot under the light switch, turning on the overhead lights. Fermat squinted up at him.

"Hello there, Mr. Hackenbacker," the young man said cheerfully. "I see we have a problem here."

Fermat recognized him as Devdan Israni, a fellow classmate from his advanced computer class of last year. "Yeah, D-D-Dev. I seem to have fr-fr-fr-fr ... injured my arm."

Dev knelt down beside him, a medikit over one shoulder. He inspected Fermat's arm, which was swelling alarmingly. "How did this injury happen?" Pulling out a chemical cold pack, he snapped it taut with both hands before applying it gently to the swollen spot.

Fermat shot a poisonous look at his new roommate, who was sitting at his own desk to stay out of the way. "I f-f-fell out of th-th ... bed." He pointed upward with his right hand.

Dev raised an eyebrow. "You must be careful in such beds, my friend. They say that the first step is a doozy ..." Fermat snorted a laugh, making Dev smile. "Where are your glasses?"

"On my d-d-d ... over there."

"Ah." Dev fetched the specs and handed them over. The younger boy slipped them on awkwardly.

"I fear we shall have to call in some more experienced personnel, my friend." Devdan rocked back on his heels, shaking his head. "This may mean a trip to the emergency room."

Fermat groaned. "My dad is g-g-g ... will be so ... so ..."

"Angry?" Dev suggested.

The younger boy shook his head. "Concerned. He r-r-rarely gets angry at me." He let his head droop. "He's just so f-far away."

Dev looked around with a puzzled expression before spying the slim boy sitting at the desk. "But where is Alan? Why are you not rooming with him?"

"It's a long s-story."

Dev nodded as he pulled out a cell phone. "I will call for whoever is on duty at the infirmary first. They will decide if you go to hospital or not." He pressed a couple of buttons to speed-dial a number. As he waited for someone to pick up, he asked, "Shall I get Alan?"

Fermat shook his head. "N-N-No. I'll be o-o-okay." _Alan's probably as tired as I am. Better let him sleep._

The hall monitor started to say something, but whoever he called had finally picked up the phone. As Dev talked to the nurse on duty, Fermat put his head back and closed his eyes. The pain had subsided to a dull throb; it stayed that way as long as he didn't move his arm. _I hope this will convince Mr. Andrew John Trumbull that I need to have the bottom bunk. And just wait until Scott hears about this. He'll be on my case about not falling properly._

A voice came from behind Dev. "Can I go back to bed now?"

The older boy put up a forefinger to indicate that the speaker should wait. He finished his call, turning to Andrew. "I do not think you will be sleeping anytime soon, young Mr. Trumbull. I should make myself comfortable were I you." He turned to glance back at Fermat. "You shall have to tell me, my friend, how it came to be that you are sleeping on the top bunk."

Fermat smiled. It was good to have friends.

* * *

"C'mon, Fermat, c'mon!" Alan shivered a little as he waited outside the dining hall. The September morning air was cool and breezy. He dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his securely fastened uniform jacket. Standing on tiptoe, he scanned over the heads of schoolmates streaming past him, looking for his friend.

"Hey, Pinky!" Qaeshon Lewis, dark-skinned with black hair in dreadlocks, approached.

Alan grinned to see him. "Hey, Kay!" He held out his hand and the two shook, letting their hands slide apart slowly, pressing their middle fingers together so when their hands finally parted, the result was a crisp snapping sound, just as if they had snapped their fingers individually. It was an African greeting, or so Kay had told him.

"Where's the Brain?" Kay asked. Alan's group of friends had a running joke: if Fermat was the brains of the operation, then Alan must be Pinky. More than once, Qaeshon had tried to explain the old cartoon his father still chortled about, but Alan didn't get it. He put up with the nickname among his friends, but God help anyone else who tried to call him Pinky!

"I don't know." Alan got up on his toes to look again. "I've been looking for him ..."

"Why? Didn't you come over here together?"

Alan shook his head. "No, we're not rooming together right now. Belvedere split us up."

Qaeshon's mouth dropped open. "No Pinky and the Brain?" 

"Nah." Alan turned to his friend, his eyes shining. "But do you know who my new roommate is? Lee Sugimoto!"

"No way!"

"Yeah way! He thinks I should try out for track."

"Cool! Hey, there's the Brain."

"Fermat? You look like hell, man! What happened to you?"

Alan and Qaeshon hustled down the stairs to meet a tired and pale-looking Fermat, his left arm in a bright blue cast and a sling. He smiled up at his friends as they gathered around him, pulling off his book bag and laptop to carry them for him. "I f-f-fell out of b-b-bed and f-f-f ... broke my arm."

Alan stopped, looking puzzled. "How'd you break your arm falling out of the bottom bunk?"

"I w-w-wasn't in the b-b-b ... lower bunk." Fermat's eyes narrowed behind his glasses as they lighted on the back of the slight, dark-haired boy who climbed the stairs in front of them. Alan's gaze followed Fermat's and he frowned.

"Who's that?"

"My r-r-roommate," Fermat replied. "He, uh, ap-ap-ap ... took over the bottom bunk while I was out."

Alan's face flushed with anger. He started to go after the boy, but Qaeshon held him back. "No, man. Not now."

Fermat smiled, a smug expression. "Don't w-w-w-worry about him."

"Why not?" Alan paced Fermat on his left.

"You remember D-D-Dev? From m-my computer class l-l-last year?"

"Yeah, I do."

"He's my hall m-m-monitor. He made it very cl-cl-clear to Andrew J-J-J... to _him_ that I'm t-to have the b-b-bottom bunk ... because I c-c-can't climb a ladder with a br-br-b r... cast."

"All right!" Alan put up his hand; Fermat awkwardly slapped it. Together, they caught up to Qaeshon, who had gone ahead. "Let's get breakfast. I've got some interesting news about _my_ new roommate."


	4. Unselfishness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tryouts and sign ups to come. You know, I really, really hate writing this stutter. I'd drop it if I could. But ... sigh ... it's part of the characters.

The first day of school was, as always, a day of introductions, when teachers passed out syllabi along their expectations for the class. For math, Alan and Fermat were again in the same class. Alan passed Miss Gerrick's class the previous year by completing the 10,000 word essay she assigned over spring break and buckling down during the last quarter. The boys could choose a literature elective at this point in their studies. Fermat chose Shakespeare for the first semester while Alan decided to take Adolescent Literature. "I'm an adolescent," he quipped. "This should be a piece of cake!"

Science also meant different classes for both boys. Fermat was already a year ahead of Alan; he was studying Chemistry, while Alan was taking Biology. The younger boy was also ahead of his older friend in Computer Science. In addition, he selected a Pre-Engineering course as an elective course while Alan opted for Strength Training. The friends shared a history course and both continued their studies in Spanish.

Throughout the day, Alan helped Fermat when he could, handing him off to other friends when they were separated. Qaeshon took over in Shakespeare and Chemistry, while Dev helped out in computer science. It seemed Fermat would be on his own in Pre-Engineering but another friend, Jason Cunningham, stayed behind after his own class to get Fermat settled. The teacher, Mr. Feng, approved of Jason's help; he gave Jason a pass to excuse his tardiness at his next class.

Fermat and Alan met after the last bell. "M-Man, am I t-t-tired." Alan automatically took Fermat's heavy book bag, carrying it one hand while keeping his backpack slung over his shoulder. Fermat toted his laptop bag on his good shoulder; he could type one handed almost as accurately as he typed with two.

"Well, it's only the first day." Alan squeezed his friend's shoulder in commiseration. "You'll get used to it by the end of the week." Alan used a hip to open an outer door, letting Fermat go through first. "So, are you going to do any extracurricular stuff? Think your dad will let you go for the academic quiz team this year?"

"I d-dunno, Alan." Fermat shook his head. "He might n-not. N-Not after this." He held up the cast-covered arm, wincing slightly. "Oww. I n-need some p-p-p ... medicine." The two walked in silence for a moment before Fermat continued. "I t-t-t ... spoke with him last night from the h-h-h ... emergency room. He w-wanted to come g-get me."

"Really?" Alan frowned, puzzled. "Why?"

Fermat sighed. "He's a-a-a... concerned I won't get along with my new r-roommate. I think h-he feels I c-c-c ... won't st-stand up for myself."

Alan gave a disgusted snort. "Fat lot he knows."

"He h-has a p-point. I r-relied on you a wh-whole lot last year."

"But you learned a lot this summer, too," Alan countered. "This year is different. Different classes, different classmates. You're a year older and a year farther along. You're established, man. You shouldn't have half the trouble you had last year."

"I hope you're r-right. The year hasn't s-s-s ... begun very w-well."

They reached Maplewood, taking the elevator up to the third floor. Alan pressed his hand to the lock's scanner; the door opened obediently. He took a look around as he entered, nodding with satisfaction. "He's not here."

"G-Good." Fermat laid his laptop's case on the desk, setting it on its side to slide the computer out one handed.

Alan set Fermat's bookbag down beside the desk, slinging his own onto the lower bunk. "Where's your painkiller?" 

"The n-nurse has it."

Alan frowned. "How come? What if you need it in the middle of the night?"

"I dunno. Do w-without, I guess." Fermat shrugged. "I need to take it with f-food or milk. We'd better stop by the i-infirmary on the way to d-dinner."

"You should talk to your dad before then. Sign up for extracurricular stuff is after dinner."

"I kn-kn ... I will." Fermat pulled out his satellite phone and speed dialed a number. The connection took time, considering the recipient lived halfway around the world, but soon the sleepy face of Hiram Hackenbacker appeared.

"H-Hello, son," he said, stifling a yawn. "H-How's the a-arm?"

"It's o-okay, Dad." Fermat smiled. "I'm h-h-h ... going to d-dinner soon. Alan's here."

"H-Hello, Alan. H-How did your f-f-f ... day go?"

Alan peered over Fermat's shoulder. "Hey, Brains. The day was okay. We figured how to get Fermat from class to class even with his busted arm."

"G-Good. I'll t-tell your f-f-f ... dad ... later." Brains had his glasses on now. He pushed his thin brown hair out of his eyes. "So, son. Why are you c-calling n-now?"

Alan pulled back out of range as Fermat took a deep breath. "Well, D-D-D ... Father, the sign up for e-e-e ... clubs and stuff is after d-dinner. I was hoping you'd a-a-a ... let me go out for the academic qu-quiz t-t-t ... squad."

Brains considered his son's eager, anxious face. "I-I don't know, F-F-F ... son. I'm c-c-c ... uneasy about s-security. And about you g-going to other schools, or staying out l-late. Your st-st-st ... classes come first. You're so much y-younger than the o-o-o ... than the rest."

"I know, D-Dad, but I can handle it." Fermat projected as much confidence as he could. "I learned a lot this s-s-s ... vacation. Like how to m-make the best use of my time. And you know th-there are always g-g-g ... teachers along on the t-trips. I c-can do it. I know I can." He leaned in close to the camera and gave his father what Alan had termed "the puppy dog look". "Please?"

Brains sighed. "O-Okay. But just the one a-a-a ... club. I'll email the p-permissions in the m-morning. Later." He yawned loudly. "Alan, do you plan on d-doing s-something extracurricular?"

Alan returned to the phone. "I'm trying out for track and field. My new roommate suggested it."

"I h-hope you m-make the team." Brains stifled another yawn. "D-Do you w-want me to t-t-t ... mention it to your f-f-f ... dad?"

"No, thanks. I'll talk to him later. After I've talked to the coach and all." Alan grinned. "He can mention it to John for me."

"Yes, J-John will be particularly interested." Brains yawned again. "I n-need to go b-back to bed, son. L-Let me know th-the schedule of m-m-m ... events. I'll see if I c-c-can attend one or t-two."

"R-Really?" Fermat's excitement was palpable.

"R-Really," Brains said with a sleepy smile. "Now get to d-d-d ... supper."

"O-Okay, Dad! Goodnight."

"G-Goodnight, son. Love y-you."

"L-Love you, too, Dad." The connection broken, Fermat turned to Alan, eyes shining. "D-Did you hear that? D-Dad may come to a meet!"

"Well, that won't happen unless we get a move on!" Alan grinned, clapping his hands. He rose, heading for the door. "C'mon! I'm hungry!"

The door swished open, revealing Andrew John Trumbull standing there, about to step inside. He looked Alan up and down with a look of distaste. "Who's this? Don't tell me _he_ has access to our room?"

Fermat's eyes narrowed. "This is my f-friend, Alan Tracy, and y-yeah, he has access to our r-r-r ... quarters. Get used to it." He pushed past Trumbull, striding toward the elevator. "C'mon, Alan. I d-don't want to miss dinner."

Alan caught up to him at the elevator door. "What burr has he got up his butt?"

"I d-dunno. I think he thinks his n-name makes him something sp-sp-sp ... unique." Fermat glanced back at his room as the lift doors swished open.

"Well, a lot of people think the same thing about me."

"Yeah, but _you_ don't think it a-about yourself." Fermat smiled, giving his friend a poke in the ribs.

 _But I do,_ Alan thought, wincing. _And sometimes, I wish I didn't._

* * *

They stopped by the infirmary, where Fermat got his dose of painkiller. He took it in front of the nurse on duty, who gave him a cup of milk to wash it down. Alan asked what Fermat should do if he needed his medicine during the night.

"He won't. This medication will last twelve hours." She turned her attention to Fermat. "See Ms. Bell in the morning before breakfast for your next dose, okay?"

"I-I will,"

Dinner at Wharton was a noisy, sometimes chaotic affair. The food was good; considering the money each student paid, it had to be. In bygone days, the students were assigned to tables and the food and drink were passed around family style. One "host" was responsible for each table, passing the food around and asking for seconds, as waiters, hired from local talent, brought dishes to the hosts. The goal at that point was to teach manners to an unruly group of privileged ruffians.

No such decorum prevailed these days, however. The meals were now served cafeteria style; boys moved through the lines with trays and were free to sit with their friends. An occasional food fight erupted, friendly or unfriendly; those who participated earned the job of cleaning up the entire dining room. Alan and Fermat learned this early the previous year. A friendly game of "hot potato"--played with a real baked potato--got out of hand and degenerated into a jello-slinging fest. They returned to their dorm late that night with hands smelling strongly of cherry. When they returned home for Christmas, they had an unexpected aversion to red jello which puzzled Onaha.

This evening, Alan and Jason helped Fermat with his tray, while Qaeshon held down a group of five seats. Five because Jason's roommate, a junior named Ralph Santiago, was joining them for the meal.

"Go sit down, Fermat," Jason said, gesturing toward the table with his head. "We've got this."

Fermat joined Qaeshon, watching with bated breath as Alan balanced a tray on each forearm, letting Jason run interference. As they finally got to the table, Jason took Fermat's tray from Alan, setting it before the injured boy.

Fermat grinned. "Thanks, g-guys!"

The couriers grinned back. Taking his seat, Jason said, "Kay, it's your turn tomorrow morning!"

"Not a problem!" Qaeshon turned to Fermat. "I hope you like Froot Loops and skim milk, 'cause that's all I'm carrying!"

The group laughed and Alan ruffled his friend's dark hair.

"So, Ralph, what's shakin' with you?" Alan asked as he began cutting his meat. "I hear you made first string soccer."

"Yeah, I did." Ralph rolled his eyes. "My dad made a big fuss about it, too. Thinks I'm professional material. Had to come a week early for practice." He took a bite from his tray. "Sugi's been busting our cases ever since we got here, though. Wants us up and out by six to run and drill."

Alan picked up his water glass, taking a big gulp before commenting. "Explains why he was already settled into the room when I got here."

"Sugi's your roomie?" Jason asked, incredulous. "No way!"

"Yes way! Boy, was he surprised to find me sitting there!" Alan's eyes shone. "I dazzled him with the old Alan Tracy vertical lift maneuver, so he said I should go out for track!"

"Cool!" Ralph grinned. "What would you go for in track? Field events or running?"

"I'd like to see what I can do with the high jump and maybe the pole vault. Oh, and cross country. I spent a lot of time with my brother running the beaches over the summer."

Qaeshon groaned. "Which brother this time?"

Alan put up a finger as he took another gulp of water. "John. He was home almost all summer long. He used to run track for Harvard."

"How many brothers do you have, anyway?" Ralph asked as he cut his roast beef up into smaller pieces.

Alan rolled his eyes. "Four, all older."

"And where does the Brain over here fit into all of this?"

"M-My dad is Mr. T-Tracy's top aeronautic engineer," Fermat replied. "W-We live with the Tracys so they can w-work together on projects without having to t-travel long distances."

"Oh."

Alan could see that Ralph was having trouble processing this bit of information. "Hey, man, it's cool. We live out in the middle of nowhere; going places is a pain in the ass. Fermat and his dad have a house at our family compound so my dad's got his top designer on hand to discuss new ideas." He shrugged. "It works for us."

Ralph gave Alan an I-don't-quite-believe-you look. "Sounds like you live out in the middle of the ocean somewhere."

Alan and Fermat exchanged glances, before stating in unison, "We do."

The conversation was interrupted by Lee Sugimoto and his friend, Xavion Lewis, Qaeshon's older brother. He stopped at their table tapped Alan on the shoulder. "You coming to sign up for track?"

"Yep," Alan replied eagerly. "I'll be there."

"Come as soon as you're done. I put a good word in for you with the coach."

"You'd better be there, too, Kay," Xavion said, giving his brother's head a playful push. "We need you."

Qaeshon batted his brother away. "I'd rather be in orchestra and on the yearbook staff, thank you very much."

"A waste of your talents, bro," Xavion retorted. He jabbed a finger at the younger boy. "Be there, or else."

The older boys moved away. Qaeshon glanced at his friends, who looked concerned. "He's big on threats but lousy on follow through. I'll do what I want. No way am I living in his shadow."

"Too bad, Kay." Alan paused to eat a forkful of mashed potatoes. "It'd be great to have a friend on the track team."

"That's assuming you make the cut, Pinky," Qaeshon shot back. He relaxed. "I hope you do."

"Thanks!" Alan grinned. He finished his last bite of dinner roll.

Jason turned to Fermat. "So, Brain, are you going out for something or does your dad think you're still too young?"

"I'm tr-trying out for academic qu-quiz team!" Fermat's happy smile reached from ear to ear. "D-Dad gave his permission!"

Ralph swallowed a bite, wiping his mouth. "Hey, that's great! I hear Israni's the captain this year."

"Is he?" Alan gave Fermat a wide-eyed excited look. "Then you'll be in, pal. No sweat!"

"Yeah, I hear that's the only thing he's doing outside of hall monitor. He's taking a heavy course load. Some AP stuff, too, to give him a boost in college," Ralph continued.

"He can handle it." Qaeshon sounded confident. "He's only the smartest guy in school." He glanced around at the empty trays. "You guys finished? I am."

As they were all ready, the five boys rose from their seats. Fermat piled his dishes onto Jason's tray and the older boy took both off to the tray return area. He jogged back, catching up with his friends as they were halfway out the dining hall doors.

As they left, Fermat noticed his roommate sitting alone at a table, looking very small and very uncomfortable. Their eyes met for a split second but Fermat turned away quickly, returning to the conversations that were going on around him.

* * *

"So, Tracy. You want to join the track team?" Coach Evans folded his arms as Lee Sugimoto guided Alan to the track coach. He was standing by a table on which perched a sign that said, "Athletics". It was covered with tablets and styluses, each marked with a different sport.

"Hey, Coach." Alan nervously extended his hand. "Yeah, I want to try out for track."

Coach scrutinized Alan closely, ignoring the outstretched hand. "I remember you from last year. You weren't too shabby in my classes but I hear your academic studies didn't go as well."

Alan fidgeted a little, still smiling nervously. "Yeah, that's true ... but I buckled down and brought my grades up last quarter." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm gonna work hard in school this year, too. No shortcuts."

"Hmm. But will you work hard in track?" Coach asked, eyeing Alan's constantly moving body. "Sugi says you've got a jump that, with work, could be an asset to the team. Anything else you can do?"

"I ran a lot of cross-country with my brother this summer. Got up to five or six K."

The grizzled man nodded, consulting his datapad. "We might be able to use you ... if you're any good. You taking phys. ed. this semester?"

Alan nodded. "Yeah. Strength Training with Mr. Beccara."

"Good." He looked Alan in the eye. "First try outs are tomorrow at three-thirty ... sharp. Dress out and come to the field. We'll see how you do." This time, the coach extended his hand. "See you tomorrow, Tracy."

"Right. Three-thirty, sharp." Alan's smile widened as he shook the coach's hand. He turned to go, took a few steps, and swung around, walking backwards as he pointed at the coach and Lee. "I'll be there!"

In another part of the auditorium, Fermat was painstakingly signing his name to a computerized signup list. He jumped as Dev Israni came up behind him without warning.

"So, you are going to try out for the academic quiz team?"

"Y-Yeah, Dev." Fermat set the tablet down. "My D-Dad has given me p-p-p ..." He paused and took a deep breath. "He says it's okay."

"Good! I foresee no problem with your inclusion. Do you, Mr. Feng?"

Fermat wasn't surprised to find his pre-Engineering teacher was the team's advisor and coach. "No, I don't see any problems here either, Dev." The tall, skinny Asian held out his hand. "Welcome to the team."

The boy shook the man's hand. "Th-Thanks, Mr. Feng. I'm r-really e-e-e ... h-h-h ..." Another deep breath, then, "I'm really g-glad to be part of this."

"We'll have to see what we can do about that stutter." Mr. Feng's voice held a touch of amusement. "You'll have to try out, of course. But I think that will be a mere formality in your case, Mr. Hackenbacker." He raised his eyes to Dev. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Devdan. Someone's at the chess team table."

Devdan nodded as Mr. Feng walked away. He rubbed his long brown hands together, grinning, his teeth white against his brown skin. "Now we will have a truly powerful team, made up of the best minds this school has to offer!" Leaning in, he spoke quietly with Fermat. "Has young Mr. Trumbull given you any more trouble?"

Fermat shook his head. "Other than b-being a snob, n-no."

"Good. Perhaps you should know, my friend, that Mr. Trumbull is as young as you were last year, and Wharton is merely the latest in a line of boarding schools he has attended." He put an arm around Fermat's shoulders. "Perhaps you should ... cut him some slack, also."

Fermat sighed. He gazed up at Dev with a long-suffering expression. "I'll t-try, Dev. Promise."

"I require no promises ... but I am glad you will try," Dev replied, removing his arm. He pointed to a spot several tables down. "Look, there. He has interests in music."

Indeed, Trumbull stood before the music director, who oversaw both the orchestra and the chorale. He was putting his name down on a sign up tablet just like the one Fermat had used.

"Interesting. I hope that if he has an i-instrument, he uses one of the pr-practice rooms, and not our r-r-r... quarters."

"He shall be reminded of that social nicety should he try to disrupt the harmony of our hall," Dev assured him. "Now, you look as if you are sleepy. Perhaps you should return to the dormitory and go to bed."

"It's the p-p-p ... medicine," Fermat admitted. "It makes me drowsy. Plus I was up so late last night ..."

"Then go, and sleep well."

"I w-will."

Fermat walked out of the auditorium, yawning widely. His arm didn't hurt, but he could feel the beginnings of a chafed spot on his neck where his sling rubbed against it. He grabbed the loose side of his jacket, drawing it close over the immobilized arm. The night was breezy and cool and he felt slightly chilled. He looked up through a clear space where the leafy oaks did not obscure the night sky. "Hello, J-John. How's life a-among the stars?"

He walked slowly along the paved path, smoothed and patched where the unruly roots of oaks broke through the concrete slabs. The breeze blew through his hair, mussing it, while oak leaves, so soon to turn a bright yellow then fall off, rustled above him. He smiled, feeling peaceful for the first time all that very busy day.

As he passed Oakwood dorm, which stood perpendicular to Maplewood, he heard loud laughter. A familiar voice called out, "Let go of me, you bastard!"

There was the sound of cloth tearing; an unfamiliar, older voice mocked, "Whoops! Didn't mean to do that!" The jeering laughter sounded again, from more than one person.

Fermat stood stock still, frozen to the spot by indecision. _What do I do? What **can** I do?_


	5. Undaunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, let's find out who's in trouble and what Fermat is going to do about it. Let's also see how tryouts go for Pinky... er... Alan.

_What do I do? I'm just one kid with a busted arm! Do I go running off for help? Or do I go running in **to** help? _ Fermat's thoughts flitted through his head like lightning. His feet did a little noiseless tattoo on the concrete as he turned in a circle, looking for someone, anyone. _I could run to Maplewood or Oakwood, but by the time I found help and made them understand me past my stutter ... I need Alan!_

Suddenly the new watch caught his eye. _That's it! Mr. Tracy said use it in emergencies and this is one! I don't need IR but maybe John can link me to Alan!_

His fingertips, encumbered by the cast, fumbled with the button Mr. Tracy had pointed out would activate the watch. He blinked in surprise as the wide LCD screen blanked out, replaced by a tiny picture of John Tracy, blond hair slightly green in the display. His mouth was moving, as if he was talking. Fermat frowned, puzzled. Scanning the face of the watch, he noticed the button marked, "Alarm". _Let's see what this will do._

"...ermat, come in! What's your emergency!" John's voice sounded very loud in the night's quiet.

Fermat looked around before calling softly, "John, can you hear me?"

"Yes! Finally! What's the emergency, Fermat?"

Fermat hunched over to protect the little screen from prying eyes--not that there were any around. "There's a g-g-g ... bunch of older b-boys nearby bullying a-a-a ... someone! I n-need Alan!"

John frowned. "Didn't Dad tell you how to communicate with each other?"

Fermat's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "No! It can d-do that? C-Cool!"

John rolled his eyes. "Okay. I'll email the instructions to you and Alan as soon as I can. For now, I'll buzz Alan and connect you. Stand by."

_We can use these to talk to each other? Sweet!_

Alan moved through the crowds in the auditorium, looking for his friends while renewing acquaintances from the previous year. He caught Miss Gerrick watching him; he gave her a nod before turning away. Suddenly, his watch vibrated. His arm felt as if an electric shock had gone through it.

"Agghh!" He shook his arm before grabbing his wrist, doing a little jig in surprise. He glanced around; people regarded him with anything from looks of puzzlement to frowns of irritation. Smiling sheepishly, he gestured to his wrist. "Uh ... spider."

He hurried from the auditorium, ducking into the nearest restroom to shut himself in a toilet stall. The usual display had been replaced with a message that blinked, "Incoming Transmission".

_What do I do here? Let's see what happens if I press ... this._

Fingering the button his father said would signal John, he was surprised to see his older brother looking back at him. "Hey, John! What's up?"

"Fermat needs you," John said, his tone businesslike. "I'll link you to him now. We'll talk more later. Transferring, now."

John was replaced by the fish-eye image of Fermat's pale face, looking gray in the lack of light. "Fermat, where are you? What's wrong?"

"I'm on the walk b-b-between Oakwood and M-Maplewood, Alan!" Fermat's near whisper sounded louder than it should to Alan's thinking. "There are s-some older b-boys, or maybe even m-m-m ... adults, holding s-s-s ... come quick, Alan! I gotta g-go help!"

"Fermat! Wait!" Alan's cry was too late. Even though Fermat's face disappeared, the picture didn't stop. It swung crazily around, light and dark objects whipping past, indistinct. He heard Fermat call out to someone, but couldn't make out what he was saying.

_Damn! Gotta go help. But I'll pick up some backup on the way out._

Alan slammed open the toilet stall door, running for the hallway. He ducked under the arms of a couple of seniors entering the restroom; they gazed after him in surprise as he slipped past. Hurrying into the auditorium, he scanned frantically for any of his close buddies. Finally, he spotted Jason and Ralph. Making his way through the crowds to them, he pulled on Jason's sleeve.

"C'mon. Fermat's in trouble!"

Jason frowned. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

"Don't know yet." Alan figured it was too hard to explain at that point. He yanked on Jason's arm. "Come _on_!"

The three left in a hurry. Alan brought up the rear at first, glancing back to see if anyone followed. He then took the lead, breaking into a sprint and speeding through the covered courtyard between the cafeteria and the rest of the Student Union building. Jason found it hard to keep up but Ralph matched Alan stride for stride as they pounded up the walkways.

As they reached the space between the two dorms, Alan slowed. He motioned for his back up team to be quiet. Crouching low, they crept up on the scene, hearing low voices beyond the bushes. Waving his hand at his followers, he drew them together and hissed, "On three."

He counted to three with his fingers and the trio rushed out of concealment. Ready to shout, Alan was suddenly brought up short by the sight of Fermat, unharmed, supporting a disheveled and upset Qaeshon. He put his hands up. His tone was casual. "Oh, hey, Fermat."

Ralph shook his head. He detoured around his fearless leader. "Kay! What happened?"

"They tore up my orchestra jacket!" Qaeshon stifled a sob of anger and frustration.

Jason made a turn around the site, inspecting the scattered and shredded papers strewn all over the grass. "Oh man! They tore up your music, too."

Ralph put a hand on Qaeshon's shoulder. "How many were there and what did they want?" He gestured at Alan. "Go get Mr. Magnuson. He'll want to see this."

Alan nodded, taking off full tilt back the way he'd come. On the way, he found Lee Sugimoto and Xavion Lewis talking in front of the Birchwood dorm, where the Lewis brothers lived.

Alan slowed. "Hey, Xavion! Kay's been attacked..."

"Where? Where is he?" Xavion demanded, concern coloring his voice. "Show me."

"Can't. Gotta get Mr. Mag!"

"I'll get Mr. Mag." Lee offered. "You show Zave where Kay is."

Alan nodded. He tapped Xavion on the forearm, leading him off to find his younger brother. A quick glance back showed Sugi running toward the security office.

As they neared the spot, they could hear Ralph gently questioning Qaeshon. "So, you didn't recognize any of them?"

"No." Qaeshon sounded calmer now that he was surrounded by his friends. "They were at least seniors, if not older ... Zave!"

"It's all right, Kay." Xavion approached his younger brother. "I'm here."

Qaeshon backed away from him. "You! You had something to do with this! I just know it! I wouldn't join track so you set these guys on me!"

Xavion's mouth dropped open. He shoved a thumb at his shoulder as he sputtered, "Me?" He shook his head sharply. "No way! I had nothing to do with this, Kay! Sure, I'd like you to join track, but I know how much you love music. If I couldn't persuade you on my own ..." He gestured toward the torn shreds of music. "Kay, I'd never do this to you. Honest."

Alan's eyes flicked from brother to brother. He quickly stepped forward, putting himself between the two young men, body facing the elder but looking over his shoulder at the younger. "Kay, calm down. It's cool. We'll get to the bottom of this."

He turned his head back to speak to the elder brother. "Zave, maybe you'd better see what's keeping Mr. Mag, huh? It's getting late and we don't want to be caught outside after curfew."

Xavion glowered at Alan before his shoulders relaxed and he nodded. "I'll see what's keeping Mr. Mag." Turning, he strode out of the clearing, breaking into a run as he went in search of security.

"Thanks, Pinky." Qaeshon put a hand on Alan's shoulder. He sighed, crossing his legs at the ankles to sit down heavily. Looking up at his friends, he gave them a half-hearted smile. "I was glad to see you guys show up but not as glad as I was to see the Brain over there." He motioned toward Fermat. "He came running around the corner, yelling at the top of his lungs. By that time the guys were already taking off, yelling at me, dissing me. But the Brain made them move a little faster, I think. He sounded like some sort of--I don't know--horde or something."

Fermat blushed and shrugged. "H-Had to d-d-d-d... act."

Ralph squatted so he was eye level with Qaeshon. "What did they want?"

Qaeshon shook his head slowly. "I dunno. They kept going on and on about what a wimp I was, playing music when I could be going out for a sport. Kept talking about how lame the classics were and maybe if I could play rock I'd be worth something." He lowered his head and picked at the grass. "Those are the kind of things Zave says to me sometimes. That's why I thought he might have put these guys up to it." He paused, running his sleeve over his eyes. "I'm damn glad I didn't have my violin with me. No telling what they would have done to that."

"Yeah. I'm glad it's safe, too." Alan crouched down. "Listen, Kay? I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I don't think Zave had anything to do with this. He seemed too shocked about it when I told him." He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know all about brothers and their reactions. I can usually tell if mine are pulling my chain or are really being real, y'know? Well, except maybe for Gordon. He's got wide-eyed innocent down pat." He squeezed the shoulder. "Cut him some slack and let Mr. Mag work on this. He'll find out who did it."

Qaeshon sighed again. "Yeah, okay, Pinky. I'll cut him some slack." He held out his fist. Alan, Ralph and Fermat each tapped it with his own. There was a rustling, heralding the appearance of a figure carrying a bright flashlight. The boys all turned to see who it was, those still standing squinting in the light.

"So, looks like we've had a bit of trouble here." Mr. Magnuson, head of campus security, strode into the clearing, accompanied by Xavion and Lee. "Who's going to tell me what's been going on?"

* * *

Mr. Magnuson questioned all the boys thoroughly, confiscating the ruined jacket and sheet music scraps. He was still talking to Qaeshon when Jason gestured for Ralph to join him. The pair pulled Alan and Fermat aside. Jason folded his arms and glared at the two buddies.

"Okay, Pinky. Spill. How did you know about all this? You said Fermat was in trouble. How did you know?"

Alan and Fermat glanced at each other. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. Alan was about to open his mouth to reply, "Uh, lucky guess?" when Fermat jumped in. He held out his right arm. "This!"

Now it was Ralph and Jason's turn to exchange glances. Jason frowned, puzzled as he studied Fermat's arm. "What?"

Alan frantically nudged Fermat but the younger boy ran with his own idea.

"The w-w-watch! Isn't it c-c-c ... great? It's a t-t-two-way wrist r-r-radio!"

Ralph and Jason closed in on Fermat, looking at the watch as well as they could in the dark. "It's cool-if that's what it is." Ralph took Fermat by the wrist. "How'd you get it?"

"F-F-From my dad! W-We're b-b-b-beta testing it f-for him." Fermat glanced over at Alan as if asking for support.

Alan nodded slightly before he stuck out his own arm. "Yeah. Tracy Industries wants to be the first on the market with them. Pretty soon they'll replace cell phones."

Fermat frowned at him over their friends' heads, informing Alan he'd gone too far in his explanation. He responded with a slight shrug as if to say what's done is done.

"Wow! That's pretty cool!" Jason finally looked up from scrutinizing Alan's watch. "I'm gonna tell my folks I want one."

Alan hemmed. "Welllll ... it'll be a while before they're on the market, y'know, and only if beta testing goes well. So it won't help much to ask for one now."

"R-R-Right!" Fermat chimed in. "It could be a y-y-year or more before they're in p-p-production. M-M-M ... Closer to t-t-two or th-three."

"Oh, okay." Jason nodded in understanding. "Tell me when they're ready to buy, though. I really want one!"

"Sure!" Alan knew full well that the watches would probably never be used outside his family.

"Hey, guys!" Ralph glanced at his own watch. "We'd better get moving. Curfew's in five minutes and lights out is in twenty."

They all looked back at Qaeshon, still talking to Mr. Mag, Xavion by his side. Lee noticed and joined them.

"You ready to go, Tracy? Mr. Mag said he'd give Kay and Zave special permission to stay up late and talk to the locals when they arrive."

"Yeah, I'm ready."

The two roommates started off. Alan turned around, walking backwards as he pointed at his friends with both hands. "See you guys at breakfast. Fermat, look for me. I doubt Kay's going to be awake for it."

"R-R-Right!" Fermat pointed his one good hand back at Alan, who turned around again, following Lee out into the quadrangle.

"C'mon, Jase." Ralph gave his roommate a nudge. "See you tomorrow, Brain."

"O-Okay. Later, g-g-guys."

The two boys left; after a moment, Fermat followed their cue. He hurried to Maplewood. Once in the elevator, he slumped against the wall, feeling tired and sleepy. When he reached his floor, he stumbled to his room, putting his good hand up to the scanner lock.

The door slid open, revealing Andrew John Trumbull lying on the top bunk, reading from a novel. He was already wearing his pajamas; he glared at Fermat with a raised eyebrow.

"Where have _you_ been?" he asked, a touch of snideness to his voice.

Fermat returned the glare before pulling his own nightwear from his armoire. "H-H-H... aiding a f-friend. N-N-Not that it's any of your b-b-business."

"I hope coming in this close to lights out won't be a habit. I like to go to bed early."

Fermat didn't reply. He took his clothes into the bathroom and changed, fumbling with the pajama pants and happy he could ease his button-down shirt over his cast. The five minute warning sounded as he dealt with the last button. He stuffed his dirty uniform into the mesh bag before proceeding with his usual bedtime routine. When he left the bathroom, he made a mental note to put his laundry bag out for pick-up in the morning. He wondered if he should mention to Trumbull about laundry day.

 _No,_ he decided. _Trumbull's a smart kid. He'll figure it out._ The boy in question had already pulled his blanket up, nearly covering his head.

The lights went out just as Fermat pulled the covers down. Snuggling in with a sigh, he closed his eyes. _. If I'd rushed in when I first heard them, maybe those guys wouldn't have torn up the music. Then again, maybe they would have turned on me. Why is it so hard to know what to do?_

* * *

Alan looked forward to his strength training class with Mr. Beccara. He'd done some with his brothers over the summer and expected to continue at the level he was at when he left the island. To his frustration, the first class merely introduced the class to the equipment, and today, Mr. Beccara discussed the major muscle groups.

"You have to know what muscle groups you're working before you start, because each exercise we'll be doing will target one or more of these groups."

Mr. Beccara clicked his computer's remote; a chart appeared on the smooth classroom wall. It had two male figures on it, one a front view and the other seen from behind. They looked as if the skin had been stripped away, showing only the muscles. Using a laser pointer, he began to circle the major muscle groups and name them. Alan looked down at the corresponding paper handout. He sighed, starting to fill in the names as Mr. Beccara indicated where on the body they were. He glanced up from time to time to check his spelling.

 _This is boring,_ he thought. _I want to get to the gym!_

Fermat found himself dealing with an unexpected problem in pre-engineering. Despite the fact he could type almost as fast with one hand as two, he was far less accurate. Like his father, he was a perfectionist in many areas, especially research or design. It galled him to have things typed inaccurately; he felt compelled him to go back and correct the spelling in his notes. However, his perfectionist tendencies didn't necessarily apply to his personal hygiene or the way he dressed. He glanced down at his shirt cuff at one point to notice, in an offhand way, that he had a glob of ketchup smeared there from his lunch. The observation occupied a split second of his thought, and then he was back to taking notes, the little fact tucked away for a later, exasperated realization.

Their last period class could not have ended any sooner. Alan itched to run back to his dorm to change for the track tryouts. Fermat felt drowsy from the warmth of the classroom and effects of his painkiller. So when the final bell rang, Alan crammed his books into his backpack, folding and crumpling the papers he received that day. Fermat slowly filled up his bookbag and put his computer in its case. He plodded out to the hallway where Alan waited, bouncing up and down impatiently.

Alan grabbed Fermat's book bag. "Come on! I've got to get to the tryouts!" He rushed down the hallway to the stairs, waiting for Fermat to catch up and motioning for him to hurry.

The younger boy felt like he was moving through molasses; he couldn't put on enough speed to suit the eager Alan. "Alan! W-W-W ... Hold up!"

Alan stopped again, glancing back before jogging to where Fermat stood, leaning against the wall. "Hey, are you okay?"

Fermat nodded. "Y-Y-Y-eah, I'll be f-f-fine." He paused. "Listen, I'm j-j-just slowing you d-down. I'll t-t-take the bookbag and you g-g-go on."

"Are you sure?" Concerned, Alan frowned as he handed over the bookbag.

"Y-Y-Yeah. G-G-Go on." Fermat waved a hand. "I'll f-f-find someone to h-h-h... assist me."

With one last, worried glance back at his friend, Alan hurried off, sprinting toward his dorm so he could change.

Fermat leaned up against the wall, sighing heavily. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes; when he put them back on he found himself meeting the gaze of Andrew John Trumbull. His roommate looked him up and down. Fermat straightened, pulling himself to his full height, an eyebrow rising behind his lenses. Trumbull shrugged, following the dwindling crowd out of the building.

The tired teen settled the strap to the computer case so it crossed over his sling before hauling the heavy book bag into his tired grip. He took a few steps away from the wall only to be nearly run down by Qaeshon.

"Hey, Brain! What's up? Where's Pinky?"

"H-He's off t-t-to t-t-track tryouts. I was s-s-slowing him down."

"Well, you look pretty whipped if I do say so myself." Qaeshon took Fermat's book bag. "Hey, I owe you for last night. Let me help you haul this back to your room before I talk to Mr. Giotta about my music and coat."

The two of them walked out of the building, toward the Student Union. "So, you got much homework?"

"Not too m-m-much." Fermat shook his head. "I th-think I m-m-might call my d-d-d ... father. Just to t-t-touch base."

"Good idea. I had to talk to mine last night about the whole incident." Qaeshon grimaced. "He wasn't too happy about the extra expense even though it wasn't my fault. He was happy I was okay."

Fermat nodded in agreement and sympathy. _Yeah, I'm sure I'll be hearing from **my** dad about using the new radios last night. _ He turned to Qaeshon. "D-D-Do they know who d-did it?"

Quashon shook his head. "Nah. Mr. Mag said it was too soon. But they hope there were fingerprints left on the music or something. At first they were kinda bummed we trampled all over the place, but I think they found footprints farther away." He made a face again. "Mr. Mag says that investigations like this take time and not to get my hopes up. Bullying isn't on the top of the police department's list."

"Your d-d-dad gonna d-do anything?"

Qaeshon shrugged. "Replace the coat and the music. Check in with the cops every so often. He tells me not to run around campus alone at night anymore. Can't help doing that sometimes, though."

"I-I know." It suddenly occurred to Fermat that _he_ had been walking around alone that night too. Suddenly, the small campus that he had considered safe didn't feel as safe anymore.

* * *

Alan ran to the athletics field, making his deadline with just a few minutes to spare. Coach Evans stood with a number of seniors--including Lee Sugimoto and Xavion Lewis--talking to a small group of underclassmen. Alan joined them, watching as Lee pointed him out to Coach. The older man didn't even break stride in his lecture as he made a mark on his electronic clipboard.

"Okay. Lewis here will lead you in some warm up and stretching exercises for fifteen minutes. Don't skimp! Stretching and warm up are extremely important no matter what sport you're into. When the fifteen minutes is up, he'll direct you to whichever area of track and field interests you. Either myself or Mr. Becarra will be watching and judging your performance. Before you ask: no, the final cuts won't be made today. Now, follow Lewis."

Alan hung back as Xavion led the aspiring team members out to the grassy oval within the track. Coach Evans looked up. "I've got you, Tracy. Get out there and warm up."

Alan grinned. "You got it, Coach." He hurried to catch up with the rest of the small group.

Xavion led the group through some calisthenics and stretches. Alan felt right at home; his brothers did these with him before any exercising or running. He'd had it drilled into his head that warming up was integral to getting the body ready for action, keeping it from injuring easily. As a result, the fifteen minutes flew by and Alan had worked up a healthy bit of sweat. Xavion then directed two thirds of the group over to the track's starting line, where Mr. Becarra waited. The rest of the boys, five in number, were asked individually what they planned on doing.

"High jump and pole vault," Alan said when asked. "Oh, and cross country, too."

"Over there for the jumps, Tracy." Xavion pointed down the field to where the vaulting bar and the foam cushion for landing had been set up. "Cross country is tomorrow. Make sure you tell Coach that you're interested."

"Okay. Thanks!" Alan jogged down the field toward his goal. As he did, the first set of sprinters came barrelling around the oval and down the straightaway.

"There you are, Tracy," Coach Evans said as he approached. "I want to see this little jumping maneuver that Sugimoto says you have. You ready to show me?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm ready." Alan's palms suddenly becoming a bit more sweaty.

"Sugimoto measured the distance to the top bunk in your room so the bar is set just a couple of centimeters below that. Let's see how you do."

Alan pulled back at an angle to the bar, trying to get a feel for how far back he needed to go. It was easier in the dorm; he had a wall or door to stop him. When he felt he was back far enough, he took a deep breath and began his run toward the bar.

He knew he was in trouble before he even got to it. He had started too far out; it had taken too many strides for him to approach the take off point. As a result, his stronger leg, the one that he was used to pushing off with, wasn't in position to propel him up as high as he needed. It was too late to stop, so he tried pushing off with the other leg. He twisted in mid-air, watching as the bar passed before his face before falling with a graceless thump onto the foam cushion.

Bouncing back up, he clenched his fists in frustration, muttering a cuss word under his breath. The coach made notes on his tablet as Alan strode up to him.

"Please, Coach. Let me try again. I'm better than that. I do this all the time."

Coach Evans gazed up at him. Alan saw his reflection in the old man's sunglasses. "Can you tell me why you weren't able to do it this time?"

"Yeah, I can. I got too far back and the leg I usually launch with wasn't in position when I reached the bar."

The coach looked over at Lee, who stood impassively nearby, and then nodded his head. "Okay, Tracy. Just as long as you didn't choke. Go ahead and give it another shot."

Alan smiled grimly, nodding. He measured back from the bar this time, getting a better feel for the distance he needed. He took a couple of deep breaths, drawing the air in through his nose and letting it out through his mouth. He stood still for a moment, and then ran toward the bar again.

This time he knew he had it. His leg was positioned just right and propelled him upwards. Time seemed to slow as he turned in mid-air again, presenting his back to the bar, feeling his shoulders slide over it without touching, with the rest of his body obediently following. He got a tiny glimpse of his own feet, about to hit the bar and possibly dislodge it. Throwing his hips downwards, he propelled his feet up, coming down with what seemed to be an agonizing slowness onto his rump, creasing the thick cushion. He slapped his arms down as if he were being thrown by Scott during a judo class, and suddenly, it was over. Time resumed its normal speed and Alan found himself bounced up a bit by the spongy pad. He glanced over at the coach, who was nodding slowly, a small smile on his lips.

Coach Evans nodded in approval. "Not bad, Tracy, not bad. We'd have to work on technique a little, but overall, a decent jump."

Alan grinned. _I may have just found my sport!_

For Alan, the rest of the tryouts weren't quite as triumphant as his high jump. When asked if he knew how to pole vault, he had to admit he didn't, so the coach waved him aside to let the experienced boys through.

Alan was surprised that some of the newer boys were trying out for the pole vault. _Wonder what kind of middle schools **they** went to? _

Coach Evans wanted all the boys interested in the field events to try out for the long jump and triple jump. Alan didn't do as well with the latter; the coach looked pleased with the former. Alan passed on the shot put and discus throw; however, he did try his hand at the javelin. He didn't think he'd done too badly, but it was hard to say.

By the time tryouts were done, the afternoon was darkening into evening, and the field's lights came on. Mr. Becarra brought the weary runners over to the smaller group gathered around the coach.

"Now, boys, tomorrow there will be two more events to try out for: cross-country and hurdles. I want to know who's interested in trying out for those events. Cross-country first."

Several boys, including Alan, raised their hands. Mr. Becarra helped the coach with the names of those who wanted to sign up. The coach repeated the process with those interested in the hurdles. When that was finished, the coach spoke to the group.

"It was very evident to both me and Mr. Becarra that you were all trying hard today. You should be proud of the effort you put forth. It's going to be difficult for us to make our final selections. However, if you don't make the cut, don't let it get you down. Instead, take your energy and enthusiasm and put it to good use in one of the school's other extracurricular activities." He paused. "You're dismissed. I'll see whoever's trying out for the remaining two events here tomorrow at three-thirty, sharp."

Alan rotated his shoulders as he walked back to Chetwood. He wanted a shower and clean clothes before eating dinner.

"Hey, Tracy!"

Alan turned as Lee and Xavion came up on either side of him. Lee grinned. "You did great today, Tracy."

"Is it true that you jump like that to get into bed every night?" Xavion asked, a bit of challenge in his voice.

"Well, yeah. Unless I'm sick or something." Alan shrugged.

"I saw you from across the field. I was _im_ -pressed." Xavion paused, rotating his own shoulders. "You'll be a great addition to the team." He glanced down at his feet before meeting Alan's eyes. "Thanks for helping out Kay last night. I'm glad you were there when he needed you." His mood changed and he threw a conspiratory arm around Alan's shoulders. "Now, what's this name Kay has for you? Pinky?"

"Pinky?" Lee's grin widened as he saw Alan squirm at Xavion's use of the name. He slid an arm around Alan's shoulders from the other side.

Alan glared at Xavion. "Where'd you learn that?"

The older boy looked off into the distance, smiling serenely. "Oh, a fellow lab mouse let it slip last night while we were talking with Mr. Mag." He glanced down at Alan, speaking directly into his ear. "So, is it true?"

"Well, uh, yeah," Alan mumbled, his face getting red. "Fermat is the Brain, and I'm ... uh ... Pinky." He pointed at each of the seniors in turn, raising his voice. "But only my _friends_ can call me that."

"Hey, _we're_ your friends now, aren't we ... Pinky?" Lee smiled slyly as they stopped in front of Chetwood

"Narf!" Xavion burst into laughter.

Alan sighed heavily and nodded. _Oh, God. By tomorrow, **everyone** will be calling me 'Pinky'. I think I'd rather die._


	6. Unaccountable Thaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprising turnaround for one of the characters, and gadzooks! A rescue!

The satellite phone rang and rang through the earpiece in Fermat's ear. He yawned. He still felt lethargic, even after the walk to Maplewood with Qaeshon. Stretching, he winced. _Boy, a nap sounds good right now._

Suddenly, the phone stopped ringing. "Hackenbacker h-h-here."

"Hey, D-Dad."

Hiram hurriedly plugged in his own earpiece so he could see his son on the phone's tiny screen. He smiled, leaning back in his ergonomically correct swivel chair while slowly twirling it away from his workbench. "F-F-F... Son! It's g-g-good to hear your v-v-v... it's good to hear from you. H-How's that arm?"

"St-Still hurts, sometimes, b-but the m-m-m... painkiller helps." Fermat unconsciously echoed his father's movements. "Makes me s-s-sleepy, though." As if to underscore the point, he yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

"M-M-Make sure you get enough r-rest." His father wagged a warning finger. "N-N-Now, tell me what h-h-h ... went on last n-night. John reported that you u-used your w-w-watch. He indicated it w-was an e-e-e ... it was important."

"It was, D-Dad." Fermat recounted what happened to Qaeshon and his part in the affair.

Hiram nodded, his face growing more and more serious. "Sounds like you did w-well, son, in s-s-s... helping your f-friend. Good j-job."

"Somehow, I think I should have h-helped sooner. M-Maybe they wouldn't have ripped up the m-m-m... papers."

"You m-might not have been able to s-s-s... keep them from doing that," Hiram gave him a soft smile. "The i-i-important thing is that you were there for your f-f-f... for Qaeshon."

"I guess s-so."

"I _kn-know_ so." Brains's smile turned to a grin. He punctuated his point with a finger which loomed large on the screen. "Now, what of A-Alan and track? Has he m-m-made the team? J-Jeff hasn't h-heard from him since s-s-s... since you got there."

Fermat shrugged. "He hasn't t-told me yet. The t-tryouts were t-today. Maybe I'll f-f-f... learn at dinner."

"M-Maybe. What about you and the quiz team?"

"Oh! Yeah!" Fermat suddenly remembered is own "tryouts". "Th-The qualifying test is t-t-tomorrow after classes." He looked down modestly. "But the team c-c-c... leader doesn't think I'll have any p-problems."

"Well, as I s-said before, send me your s-s-schedule and I'll try to make it to a m-meet or two."

"That would be so gr-gr-great!" Fermat's face practically glowed with pleasure as he beamed at his father.

"I think so t-too, son."

Fermat looked away as the door swished open and his roommate walked in. "I think I'd b-better go, Dad. I'd like to c-catch a nap before d-dinner."

"O-Okay, son." Hiram smiled. "We'll t-talk again s-soon. Love you."

"Love you too, Dad. B-Bye now." Fermat terminated the call, sighing.

Trumbull unloaded his books onto his desk's surface. He glanced at Fermat. "Talking to your parents?"

"Yeah, but it's j-just my d-dad."

"Where's your mom?"

The older boy shook his head. "Don't know. She's not d-dead, but D-Dad doesn't talk about her m-much." Returning Trumbull's frank gaze, he asked, "Where are y-y-your folks?"

Trumbull shrugged before returning to empty out his backpack. "I dunno. Dad's probably in Geneva, where the world courts are. He's a lawyer, specializes in international law. My mom and her man-of-the-month are probably some place exotic and warm, spending her alimony. I was supposed to be the glue that kept them together." He sighed heavily. "Not strong enough, I suppose."

"I'm s-sorry." Fermat's tone showed he meant it.

"You know, this is the first time you've said anything to me that wasn't all angry sounding." The younger boy looked thoughtful. "Why is that?"

"Well, th-this is the first time you've said anything to m-me that hasn't been ... sn-snobby," Fermat returned. "You h-have to admit, when y-y-you walk into you room and find a s-s-s ... someone you don't know messing with your st-stuff, it leaves a bad f-first impression."

"Hmm. I suppose it would; I didn't think of it that way." Trumbull made a face. "I've never been to a place where they pack them in like sardines the way they do here."

"Wh-What do you mean?" Fermat's voice warned Trumbull that his comment wasn't particularly well received.

"At the other schools, I always had a private room." The boy shuffled his feet a little. "I've never had a roommate imposed on me before."

"W-Well, I was e-expecting to room with my friend, Alan, so I w-wasn't thrilled about g-getting a stranger, either. I st-still might be rooming with him. D-Depends on what M-Mr. Tracy does at the director's m-m-m... session next month."

Trumbull regarded Fermat with a slight frown. "Then I'd have to get used to somebody new."

"Maybe, maybe n-n-not." Fermat shrugged, turning to put his phone away. "Depends on wh-what happens. Who knows? You might get a private room a-after all."

There was a silence between them for a moment, before Trumbull stepped over to Fermat with his hand out. "I think I'd like to start over. Hi, my name is Andrew John Trumbull. What's yours?"

Eyebrow rising, Fermat considered the outstretched hand for a minute. He shrugged slightly before taking it and shaking it once. "My name is Fermat H-Hackenbacker. Nice to m-m-meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too." When the exchange ended, the two boys looked at each other. Trumbull hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "What are those white plastic boxes out there?"

"Ah, my laundry!" Fermat levered himself out of his chair, yawning as he did. He loped over to the door, opening it to drag in the two boxes. Opening one revealed his clean uniform shirts, pressed and vacuum wrapped to present the thinnest possible package. He placed some things in his armoire's drawers or shelves, while hanging others up. For his trousers, he unfastened the special hangars that the school provided at one end and slid the now-open bar straight through the plastic. Having only one good hand to work with was tough but he managed.

"Laundry?" Trumbull asked as he watched Fermat work. "Is that what those bags were up and down the hall this morning?"

Fermat groaned. "You d-didn't get yours out? I'm sorry, I thought you'd f-f-figure it out. They do our laundry t-twice a week. All your st-stuff should be marked with your name. When you change, you're supposed to put dirty clothes in your hamper bag--the one in the bathroom. Then on l-l-l ... wash days, you leave the bag in the hall and it comes back late in the a-afternoon, in boxes like these. When you've p-put your clothes away, you put the b-boxes back in the hall. They'll pick them up some time in the m-morning."

Trumbull folded his arms. "Huh. At my other schools, I usually had to send my stuff out to the cleaners. When will they do it again?"

Fermat thought for a moment. "In three days. I'll let you kn-know when."

"How'd they come up with this system?"

"I asked about that last y-year. Seems it's been a tradition ever since the s-school started. No washing machines existed b-back then, so the school provided a l-laundry service, which c-cost extra. They experimented with self-serve l-l-l ... washers and dryers in the 1970s, b-but most everybody here is used to having their clothes washed for them, and besides, they kept d-damaging the machines. So they went b-back to the laundry service and made e-everyone pay for it."

"Hmm. Interesting."

"Something else you should kn-know," Fermat said. "There's a room inspection once a w-week. We have to keep the room cl-clean, and they make sure we do. That means no trash or junk on the floor, the c-carpet v-vacuumed, beds made, and the b-bathroom scrubbed out." He held out his arm. "I can do the vacuuming and take out the trash, but the bathroom..."

Trumbull held his hands up defensively. "Don't look at me! I've never cleaned a bathroom in my life!"

"You're going to l-learn," the older boy warned. "They s-supply the cleaners and stuff. If we keep up with it, it's not h-hard."

"Can we talk about this later?" Trumbull sat down at his desk. "I've got my first chorale rehearsal tonight so I have to get my homework done. Besides, didn't I hear you say you wanted a nap?"

"O-Okay. We'll talk later. But they'll check our room on S-Saturday. We c-can't go anywhere until they do."

"I'll take that under advisement," Trumbull said with a hint of sarcasm. Fermat shook his head, took off his shoes and glasses before pulling out his portable music player. Fumbling a bit with his earphones, he got them situated comfortably and then climbed into bed, clipping the tiny player inside his shirt pocket. He programmed it for his "thinking" playlist, a series of serene classical pieces he could tune out while studying. So, between the painkiller and the music, Fermat drifted off quickly.

* * *

It felt like only a few moments had passed before he was shaken awake. 

"Hey, Fermat. Wake up!"

He waved irritably, but the intruder persisted. "If you don't wake up, you'll miss dinner."

At that, Fermat's eyes opened. He sat up, still groggy, the world a blur. "Here." The boy, who sounded vaguely like Fermat's roommate, thrust a solid, familiar object into his good hand. "Your glasses."

Fermat automatically opened the frames and tried to slide them on his face. It was difficult, until he remembered and removed his earphones. The world around him suddenly became both louder and much clearer.

Trumbull pulled a light jacket from his own wardrobe, turning toward Fermat as he zipped it up. "It's supposed to be chilly tonight. Hey, do you think I can sit with you and your friends?"

"Uh... s-sure." Fermat pulled his shoes closer to put them on. Once shod, he rose and stumbled over to his wardrobe, feeling slightly dizzy and light headed. He pulled his jacket on, fumbling as he drew it over his cast. "G-Gotta stop by the i-i-i... nurse's office before dinner to get my p-p-p... medicine."

"Okay. You lead the way. I'm not familiar with the campus yet," Trumbull agreed amiably. "Let's go."

Once out in the brisk air, Fermat's head seemed to clear. The two boys didn't talk much beyond giving directions to the infirmary. When they entered, the nurse practitioner--a young, dark skinned woman whose name tag read Marlee Bell, CNS--got up with a smile. "Hello again, Mr. Hackenbacker. Let me get your medicine." She left momentarily, returning with a cup of milk and a small plastic baggie with his pill in it. "Now, how is this medicine doing for you? Any nausea, vomiting, lethargy, dizziness?"

"I w-was a little dizzy g-getting up from my nap just n-now," Fermat explained as he took the pill in his hand. "I was really d-drowsy in class."

Ms. Bell frowned. "Hmm. Let's give it one more day. If you're still too drowsy, we'll find something else."

Fermat nodded and took the pill. Ms. Bell made him initial on his meds chart. She also initialed it, making a note about the drowsiness. The two boys left, heading for the nearby dining hall.

Alan waited on the steps, looking for Fermat. He bounced up and down impatiently, hands in his jacket pockets. He could hardly wait to tell his friend all about the tryouts. A few of the older boys, including ones he didn't know, walked by, greeting him with, "Hi, Pinky!" or "Hey there, Pinky!" 

He groaned. _Who did Lee and Xavion talk to? This'll be spread all over the school by morning at this rate! Kay's gonna get an earful at dinner, that's for sure!_

Suddenly, he heard his name--his _real_ name--called out. 

"A-Alan!" 

He grinned, jogging down the steps to meet his friend. His grin faded a bit as he saw that Fermat's new roomie was tagging along. He raised an eyebrow at Fermat, gesturing with his head toward the other boy, his unspoken question in his eyes.

Fermat knew Alan well enough to interpret the body language. "It's o-okay. Alan, I'd like to i-i-introduce you to my r-roommate, Andrew John T-Trumbull. Uh... Andrew? This is my f-friend, Alan T-Tracy."

The younger boy put his hand out politely. "Pleased to meet you."

Alan took it and shook it firmly. "Likewise. C'mon Fermat! I'm starving! And I can't wait to tell you all about tryouts!" He put an arm around his friend to shepherd him inside. Fermat turned slightly, beckoning Trumbull to follow them.

"What's with the kid?" Alan hissed as they entered the dining hall. "I thought you didn't like him."

"W-We sorta... started over," Fermat commented in a low voice. "He made the f-f-first move."

Alan glanced back at Trumbull. "Okay, if you say so. He can hang with us. But if he starts getting snotty..." He removed his arm from Fermat's shoulders and waved Trumbull up to join them.

They moved as quickly through the line as the crowd of hungry boys would allow, and when they made it to the end, Qaeshon was waiting to help with Fermat's tray. Jason stood at the table they had grabbed, his bright red hair as much a beacon as his waving arm. 

"Kay, tell Jase we need an extra chair. Fermat's brought his roommate along," Alan said.

Quashon looked the newcomer up and down carefully. "Okay. I hope he can grab one." He moved off with the tray. Alan, Fermat and Trumbull followed at a slower pace.

As they reached the table, there was a cry of "Hey, Pinky!" almost in unison and from several different people. Alan colored, grimacing. He gazed across the wide room to see Lee Sugimoto and Xavion Lewis sitting with their friends, all of them seniors, waving in his direction and laughing. Some even blew kisses his way. Xavion's voice sounded a loud, "Narf!" which was picked up by the others at the table. Alan noticed many other students glancing between him and Lee's rowdy friends--and putting two and two together. He groaned again.

"Alan! Don't stand there looking like a deer in headlights! Sit down!" Ralph grabbed his tray and set it on the table as Alan quickly obeyed his friend's command. Jason had commandeered another seat at the table; Fermat gestured for Trumbull to take it.

"I'm sorry, Alan." Qaeshon tone was sincere and apologetic. "I accidentally let it slip last night after you guys had gone." Qaeshon shot an angry glance at his older brother, who wasn't even looking in his direction, "Zave promised he wouldn't spread it around; looks like he lied to me."

Alan sighed. "It's okay. I know _you_ didn't mean it."

"H-Hey, guys. I'd like to introduce my r-roommate, Andrew John T-Trumbull," Fermat said, trying to deflect the conversation. Quickly, he introduced the others in their little group.

"Nice to meet you all," Trumbull said politely. He turned to his food and began to eat.

Fermat could tell he was uncomfortable. _He's probably not used to a group as diverse as this is._

"Hey, kid," Qaeshon said between bites, indicating Trumbull. "What do we call you? Andrew John's a clumsy moniker, if you know what I mean."

"Pardon me," Trumbull said politely, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "But I _don't_ know what you mean."

Jason swallowed a bite before jumping in to explain. "Well, we all have nicknames of one kind or another." He pointed to himself. "The guys call me Jase sometimes. Qaeshon is Kay, and his idiot older brother Xavion over there is Zave. Alan is Pinky and Fermat's the Brain." He pointed to each of the group as he named them.

"What about you, uh... Ralph, is it?" Trumbull asked, unsure he had the name right.

Alan shrugged. "Oh, Ralph's just Ralph. Not much you can do with 'Ralph'."

"Or would want to do with it," Qaeshon chimed in. The boys laughed, except for Trumbull, who had a confused expression. "But back to the original topic; what do we call you? Andy?"

"Oh!" Trumbull's face brightened. "Now I understand. You want to give me a nickname. I see." He frowned a bit before shaking his head. "Not Andy."

"I a-agree," Fermat said around a mouthful, nodding. "It doesn't f-fit."

"Drew?" Ralph suggested. At this, all the boys made negative sounds and shook their heads.

A few quiet moments went by as the boys tried to think of something appropriate. Suddenly, Jason exclaimed, "I've got it!" The others turned their attention to him as he continued. "A.J. For Andrew John!"

The boys rolled this over in their minds for a minute before most of them began to nod and smile. "By George, I think he's got it!" Alan quipped. He turned to Trumbull. "What do you think?"

The boy thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "It sounds okay. You can call me that if you want."

"Okay, from now on you're A.J.," Qaeshon said with a grin. "I think it fits."

"Good! Now that we've got that out of the way, let me tell you all about tryouts today!" Alan declared.

* * *

The two friends walked back to Maplewood together after stopping at Alan's room to snag his math book. The newly-christened A.J. had excused himself, reminding Fermat that he had chorale practice. This gave Alan and Fermat some time alone to compare notes.

"I c-called my dad this a-afternoon," Fermat said. "He told me J-John had reported about our using the w-watches."

"Yeah, I got a message from Dad on my satellite about it. Thought he'd chew me out but he just said that he'd heard and reminded me to use it only in emergencies. He wants me to call him back, but I don't want to until I know about track."

"C-Call him back anyway, Alan. My dad mentioned that y-you hadn't called. I think he wanted me to n-nudge you." He suited his words with action, nudging his friend in the ribs. Alan grinned and nudged him right back.

"I guess I will, then. After we finish our homework." They walked along quietly for a moment before Alan continued, "I got an email from Tin-Tin today."

"Oh?" Fermat looked up at his taller friend, interested. "Wh-What did she say?"

Alan shrugged. "Not a lot. Just stuff that's going on at her school. Y'know, girly stuff. About her new friends and all. She addressed it to both of us. Guess she doesn't know that we're not rooming together. I forwarded it on to you."

"C-Cool!" Fermat exclaimed. "You want me to t-t-t... let her know we're not r-r-roommates?"

"Sure, knock yourself out," Alan said in a desultory tone. "I never know what to say anyway."

"You can t-tell her about t-track," the younger boy suggested. "She'd be interested."

"I guess so. I'll write later." They walked along quietly again. A thought came to Alan and he glanced over at Fermat. "Hey, what happened with you and the snob today? Why the turnaround?"

"I dunno." It was Fermat's turn to shrug. "I was on the phone with D-Dad and he came in. When I h-hung up, he asked me about m-my parents. I t-told him about my d-dad and asked him about his folks. His f-f-f... dad is an international lawyer and his m-mom has... uh... other m-men. They're d-divorced. We realized we were being c-c-civil to each other and he s-suggested we st-start over. Y'know, he's been to private schools a lot but never had a r-roommate before. I don't think he knows h-how to act."

They reached Maplewood and entered the building. "I guess that makes sense, though," Alan said. "I mean, I've got my brothers and you. You've got all of us, so we know how to act around other people we live with. If he doesn't have anyone like that and never has, he's got to learn."

"True."

They were quiet in the elevator and on the way to Fermat's room. Alan put his hand to the door lock for scanning. When they entered the room, he immediately noticed the rumpled bed. "Hey, what happened here?"

"I t-took a nap after c-classes," Fermat said, sitting down at his desk. "The medicine was m-making me drowsy."

"Does Ms. Bell know?"

"Yes, I told her when I st-stopped for my evening dose. If it continues, she'll says we'll tr-try something else."

Alan nodded. "Sounds like a plan." He sat down on the floor and opened his math book. "So, let's get going."

Fermat smiled and pulled out his own textbook.

* * *

Alan walked back to the dorm alone, whistling happily. He and Fermat had finished their math together and, thanks to his friend's tutelage, Alan felt he had a better grasp of the concepts they were studying. He looked up at the stars and sent a mental greeting to his brother John. He knew from his current vantage point he could never see the actual spot of sky where Thunderbird Five was stationed, simply because it was in geostationary orbit over the South Pacific, where the rest of his family resided. _On the other side of the world,_ he said to himself. _Wonder what everyone's up to right now?_

He took the steps to the lobby of Chetwood two at a time, passing by the first floor common lounge on his way to his room. A news program was showing on the plasma screen TV; Lisa Lowe babbled on about something or other, so he paid it no heed. Instead, he knocked on the door to his room and heard a chorus of "Come in!", before putting his hand up to the scanner to unlock it.

As he stepped inside, he saw a group of boys, mostly seniors, sitting on the floor in a rough circle. Each of them looked up at him as he made his way to his desk. Most of them, including his roommate, grinned and greeted him with some variation of, "Hi, Pinky!" He rolled his eyes as he put away the math book and pulled out his satellite phone. Turning, he was surprised to see the pile of chips in the center of the circle, and cards in just about everyone's hands.

Trey Mackenzie, who Alan recognized from his first day back at school, nudged Lee and murmured something in his ear. Lee nodded, glancing up at Alan. "Hey, Pinky! You know how to play poker?"

"Yeah, I know how to play," Alan responded. Surprisingly, it was Virgil who taught him the finer points of poker, having learned it in college from the son of a Las Vegas cardsharp.

"You do? Cool. Want to play? We can deal you in next hand," Lee offered.

Alan shook his head. "Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Maybe some other time." He was confident he could hold his own in the circle but he had something more important to do.

Lee shrugged noncommittally. Alan entered the bathroom for privacy as he made his call. He put his earphone and mike combo in his ear so he could be seen by whoever answered. The phone rang and rang; he was just about to give up when someone picked up on the other end. The words "voice only" appeared on the screen, and a familiar voice sounded in his ear.

"Tracy residence, Kyrano Belegant speaking. Who is calling?"

Alan smiled. "Hey, Kyrano! It's Alan. How are you? How's Onaha?"

The screen's words blinked out and the smiling face of his father's Malaysian retainer replaced them. "It is good to see you, Mr. Alan. Onaha and I are both fine; thank you for asking. And you? Are you well?"

"Yeah, I'm doing great! Heard from Tin-Tin today. Sounds like she is doing okay out there in England."

The retainer's smile faded a bit., "My daughter is lonely without you and Fermat but her Ladyship has promised to take her shopping this weekend."

"Shopping." Alan snorted. "That'll cheer her up. Hey, is my dad around?"

"I am afraid he's not here, Mr. Alan. He and your brothers are away on ... family business."

"Oh! Okay!" Alan said, surprised. "I understand. Tell my dad I called, would you please?"

"I will, Mr. Alan. Is there any message?"

"No, not really. Just tell him I called and I'm sorry I missed him." Alan grinned. "Wait! I know! Tell him 'Tag, you're it!'."

The retainer chuckled as he answered, "I will pass the message on. Is there anyone else you'd like to talk to?"

The boy shook his head.. "Not if everyone went out with him. Fermat's already talked to his dad. I'll let you go and wait for Dad to call back, okay? Say 'hi' to Onaha for me!"

"All right, Mr. Alan. I will relay your greetings. Have a good week at school. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Kyrano." The call ended and Alan frowned a bit. _Out on a mission! I wonder if it's on TV?_ He pocketed his phone, told Lee that he'd be back soon and went in search of the common lounge and the plasma screen.

* * *

It wasn't on the televid, not really, simply because of the remote rescue venue and the abysmal weather conditions there. Even so, nothing stopped Lisa Lowe from babbling on about it from the University of Alberta, where the rescuees had started out. A small team of engineers and scientists had flown via helijet to the Upper Weather Station on the John Evans glacier in the Canadian Rockies. They were supposed to make repairs to the equipment there. While they worked, a previously forecast snowstorm moved in faster than anticipated and the team found itself stranded in white out conditions. The flight crews of those same helijets determined their conveyances weren't powerful enough to retrieve the team through the wild, white winds. So the University of Alberta called upon the only people they thought could get through the weather and rescue the scientists: International Rescue.

"Thunderbird One, keep your belly lights focused on that tent!" Jeff called into his communicator.

"F-A-B! I'm trying but the winds are fierce up here," Scott called back through gritted teeth. He had been, as usual, first on the scene, and had used the thermal imaging equipment in One's nose to pinpoint the exact location of the five-man team. There hadn't been much for him to do until Thunderbird Two showed up but encourage the people on the ground and use One's bulk as a windbreak on this desolate river of ice. He didn't completely land, just hovered near the surface of the glacier, shifting his position with the wind and protecting the small group of Arctic tents the team had set up.

In the space station, John accessed the weather satellites surrounding the Earth to pinpoint the spot where Scott tried his best to keep the snow and gales from blowing the team's shelter away. He relayed shifts in wind direction on a moment-by-moment basis, helping the Thunderbird One's pilot alter his position to provide better blockage. But it was a tough battle keeping the lead Thunderbird motionless in the air, especially when the de-icing system threatened to overload and the wet, heavy snow was beginning to stick.

At last the lights indicating the bulky form of Thunderbird Two showed up in Scott's viewport, looking as if it were coming out of a dense fog. He could have cheered as the cargo carrier's bright spotlights were added to his own.

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two," came the welcome sound of his father's voice. "What's the situation?"

"Thunderbird One here. We have five crew members, huddled together in the one tent. I've been trying to use One as a windbreak to both keep the structure from blowing away in these winds and the worst of the snow off so it wouldn't collapse. I have had continuous contact with those inside; their leader reports some of the team members are feeling the effects of hypothermia. They aren't going to be able to help themselves much."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One. You keep doing what you're doing and keep the site lit up. Gordon and I will put on our cold weather gear and take the rescue basket down. John, relay the data from One's thermal imagers to Virgil so he can put us as close to that tent as possible. We've only got one shot to do this. We need to do it right!"

"F-A-B," was John's reply.

Virgil managed to make the minute adjustments in Two's orientation to plunk the rescue basket in the thick snow no more than two meters away from the tent. Jeff and Gordon stepped out, wearing thermal suits with helmets, bright personal lights and high-tech snowshoes. Gordon carried a laser to melt snow away from the tent's entrance.

Finding the entrance was a bit problematic as it was on the other side of the tent from the rescue basket. Once this was discovered, Virgil lifted the platform into the air and moved it to the other side, while Gordon and Jeff pulled the first victim from the snow-covered structure. It was at this point that Thunderbird One had been snagged by a high gust and its belly lights, so crucial to illuminating the scene, moved away and elicited the shout from Jeff.

Scott wrestled with the controls, bringing his craft back to its previous coordinates. Worried, he glanced at the de-icing system readouts, long gone into the red and inching up to the critical level. Soon it would shut down on its own and ice would begin to accumulate even that much more, possibly grounding the lead Thunderbird. "Come on, Dad," he muttered under his breath. "Get those people out of there!"

After three of the five scientists were safely aboard the rescue basket, Jeff sent it up to Thunderbird Two with Gordon. Scott grimaced. Now his father was down there with the scientists, waiting on the return of their transport. He watched as the basket, buffeted around by the winds, made a slow, choppy ascent into the belly of Thunderbird Two. The bay doors closed beneath it and Scott began to count the seconds until the platform made a reappearance. 

"Come on, Gordon. We're running out of time!" Scott knew very well that Virgil couldn't just put Two on autopilot and help; his younger brother was in the same boat as far as keeping his craft in the air was concerned.

One hundred and eighty seconds later, the rescue platform came down again, empty. Gordon stayed behind on his father's orders to bring the hypothermic scientists to the sick bay. Virgil was doing yeoman's work, putting the platform down in nearly the exact same place. Now Jeff swung into action, pulling the fourth scientist from the tent and carrying him or her over his shoulder to the rescue platform. Scott battled with his controls to keep the spotlight on the scene, unconsciously biting his lower lip as his father plodded over the snow and back to the tent.

This time, Jeff had to climb into the tent itself. Scott could see a ripple in the accumulated snow as his father's helmet slid across the surface from beneath. Suddenly, the weight of the snow on top combined with the disturbance beneath the surface caused the structure to collapse!

"Dad!" Scott shouted. He could hear Virgil making a similar cry in Thunderbird Two. The concavity that had been the tent didn't move. Scott swore long and loud before his training kicked in. After taking a deep breath, he took over.

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One! Virgil, get that platform back up into your craft. Gordon, be prepared to receive the fourth scientist. Get him or her into the warmth as quickly as you can then get back down there with that laser!"

"F-A-B!" came the voices of both of his earth-bound brothers. The rescue basket began its ascent once again, the weight within shifting as the yellow structure moved with the wind. Scott began to worry that they would lose the scientist who lay on the deck. But at last the doors in Thunderbird Two's belly opened and the platform disappeared.

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Five. What the hell is going on?" John demanded, his voice worried and angry at the same time.

"The tent has collapsed under the weight of the snow and the Commander is trapped inside!" Scott began to count the seconds again, reaching only sixty-five before the doors opened again and Gordon made the descent, putting the winch into emergency mode and all but free-falling to the glacier. The basket landed with an almost audible crunch on the snow and the second-youngest Tracy ran as quickly as the snowshoes would allow to where the tent had once stood.

Using the laser on its middle setting, he carefully began to melt away the snow from the top of the quickly filling depression, and as he did, the snow on top began to push upwards. Scott let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as their father crawled out of the tent, stepping back in just enough to brace the top so Gordon could nip in and grab the final scientist. Handing the laser to his father, Gordon lifted the final victim in a fireman's carry to transport him to the waiting platform. Jeff plodded along behind but took a moment to raise two fingers in salute to his eldest son. 

"Damn, that snow was heavy!" he said, a little bit out of breath. "Thunderbird One, you'd better haul butt out of here. You're icing up. We've got things under control here."

"F-A-B, Commander. As soon as your ass is on board the big green bug, I'll head out," Scott replied, his no-nonsense tone carrying his worry and serious intent better than his words could.

There was a slight pause before his father replied wearily, "F-A-B, Thunderbird One." Jeff stepped into the rescue platform, leaning against the rail as Gordon manipulated the controls and it ascended into the belly of Thunderbird Two for a final time.

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two. What did you call my baby?" Virgil's peeved tone sounded in his ear. "A big green _what_?"

Scott laughed out loud. "You heard me the first time, Virge. Now, let's get the hell out of here. See you at the hospital in Edmonton, as per orders."

Virgil made some indiscriminate grumbling noises that sounded suspiciously like swearing, and Scott laughed again. "Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One. We got him out and we're heading for Edmonton. Stand down time...," he glanced over at his chronometer, "...19:45 hours, local time."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One. Thanks for keeping me posted," John replied.

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One out." Scott watched as Thunderbird Two took off into the night, and then urged his craft forward through the winds, catching up with and pacing the bulkier craft as they headed toward the city of Edmonton and medical assistance.

* * *

"Lights out in five minutes," came the voice over the loudspeaker. The crowd in the common room groaned and a few boys cussed. They had been watching the newscast, hoping for a glimpse of the Thunderbirds, which were supposed to make an appearance at the hospital in Edmonton at any moment. They began to disperse, knowing that when the lights went out in five minutes, the televid would shut off as well. Alan sighed, following the other boys out, glancing back to the still running commentary from Lisa Lowe, who said a lot of little importance as she waited for International Rescue to appear.

 _Now I **really** wish I were rooming with Fermat,_ Alan groused to himself. _We could have followed the whole rescue through the downloads onto the tertiary drive. But no! We had to get split up. I hope Dad can do something to get us back in the same room. This is tearing me up being so far from home and not knowing what's going on!_


	7. Undergoing Evaluation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.J. makes a startling statement and asks an interesting question, Fermat has some physical trouble, and Alan tries out for cross country. Forgive me if I've messed up on the cross country terms. And, yeah, I know I've had them eating a lot of meals, but at the age Alan and his friends are, food is _important_!

"Hey, Alan! Did you see? The Thunderbirds were on televid last night!" Qaeshon asked at the breakfast table.

Fermat's eyes widened with excitement. "The Th-Thunderbirds? Where?"

"The Canadian Rockies, rescuing some scientists in a blizzard." Jason turned to Alan. "Did you see it?"

Alan spooned jam onto his buttered biscuit. "Yeah, I did. Too bad lights out came before they actually showed the crafts." 

Jason leaned forward, motioning his friends to lean in as well. "I've got a portable, battery-operated televid," he said softly. "The craft showed up about ten minutes after lights out. They still had snow on their wings! Man, that Thunderbird One is awesome!"

Ralph nodded. "Yeah! I heard Thunderbird Three is even more awesome than One!"

"It is." The boys turned as one to stare at A.J., who was cutting up his sausage patty.

"You've seen them? In person?" Qaeshon eyes went wide. A.J., his mouth now full of meat, nodded.

"When?" Alan's tone sharper than he meant it to be.

A.J. swallowed, taking a sip of milk before answering. "In the spring. My dad had business in London and took me with him while I was on break. I was near that big Ferris wheel--what do they call it? Oh yeah! The London Eye. Three of the Thunderbirds showed up. There were these two other things, too: a digging machine and a mini-sub. I wondered how they were going to get that big red rocket up into the air again without scorching the grass."

"Cool!" Jason said eagerly. He leaned over toward the younger boy. "Just so's you know, Pinky and the Brain are the school's biggest Thunderbirds fans."

"Did y-you see the guys who fly the ships?" Fermat tried hard to keep a touch of apprehension from his voice.

A.J. shook his head. "No, I was actually heading away from the Eye at that point. We were too far away to see anything but the Thunderbirds themselves. Still, those machines were magnificent."

"Gotta agree with you there, A.J." Alan grinned. "They're awesome! Wish I could have seen them on the vid last night." _For more reasons than one!_

After breakfast, Alan walked with Fermat to their first class, which was math. "Heard from your dad this morning?"

"N-No. You?"

Alan shook his head. "No, but I hope to this afternoon. I called and tagged him."

Fermat chuckled. "H-Hope your game of phone tag doesn't g-g-g... last too l-long. I want to know what h-h-happened last night."

"Me, too. Smart move there, asking A.J. if he had seen the operatives."

"Th-Thanks. Don't w-want j-j-j... don't want to be a s-security risk."

"Agreed."

Math went well. Alan felt confident enough to volunteer an answer to a question and was pleased when his answer turned out to be correct. He was concerned, though, when Fermat showed signs of drowsiness toward the end of class. He nudged his friend, who had stopped taking notes on his computer, hoping to wake him before the teacher noticed. He was too late. Mr. Graboski came down the aisle to stand and look down at Fermat. "Are you with us, Mr. Hackenbacker?"

Fermat blinked several times, staring up at the teacher while trying to collect his thoughts. Alan jumped in, tapping the teacher on the arm. "Uh, Mr. Graboski? Fermat's on a painkiller for his arm that makes him really drowsy. I think maybe he should go see Ms. Bell."

The teacher raised one bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrow; his rheumy eyes flicked from one boy to the other. He jerked his head, indicating the door. "Take him. I'll want a note from Ms. Bell for both of you Monday morning."

"Yes, sir," Alan said as he gathered up his things and helped Fermat with his gear. He took his friend by the arm, propelling him out of the room. "Fermat?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

Fermat sighed heavily. "I'm just s-so... s-s-sleepy."

"C'mon. Let's get you to the infirmary." Alan put a hand on his friend's back and shepherded him carefully down the stairs.

Ms. Bell was working in the treatment room when the two of them came in. She poked her head out to see who was there. "I'll be right with you, boys." A few minutes later, a student Alan knew by sight came out, his forearm wrapped in a bandage. The two acknowledged each other before the injured boy left. Ms. Bell came out, drying her hands on a paper towel. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"Fermat's really sleepy, Ms. Bell. He couldn't stay awake in math class," Alan explained as the nurse guided Fermat back to the examining room. 

She motioned to her assistant, who helped Fermat onto the examining table. "Who was the teacher?"

"Mr. Graboski."

Ms. Bell chuckled. "No wonder he's drowsy." Removing Fermat's glasses, she examined his eyes, which caused her to make a "Hmmm" sound. "Fermat? How do you feel right now?"

"D-D-Dizzy. Sl-Sleepy." Fermat fumbled for his glasses; when he found them he slipped them back on.

"Okay. I think we're going to have to change medications. You likely have too much in your system right now and your body isn't processing it well. I want you to stay here to sleep it off where I can keep an eye on you. Alan, I'll give you a pass for your next class and you can go. Fermat should be all right. Sandy, write up a hall pass for Mr. Tracy here."

"I'll need one for Mr. Graboski..."

"Sandy, write that up, too, please. I'll email it later." Ms. Bell helped Fermat down from the examining table and guided him to a bed in the sick room. Alan poked his head in to watch as the nurse practitioner helped his friend take his shoes off, covering him as he lay down on the bed. She murmured something to Fermat; he clumsily removed his glasses, handing them to her. She put them in the drawer of the cabinet next to the bed. Once Fermat was settled, she came back out into the hallway to smile at Alan. "Take a minute to put his belongings back there next to the bed please, Alan, while I sign the paperwork."

Alan did as he was told, giving Fermat's upper arm a squeeze before he left the room. He knew his friend was out of it; there had been no reaction to the squeeze and he could hear Fermat's quiet snore, which brought a smile to his face. "I'll tell Dev about this, sport. He'll make sure you still get to try out," he said softly.

Ms. Bell was waiting for him with a paper note when he returned to the waiting room. "He'll be okay, Alan. I'll probably release him late this afternoon. Here, take this. It will get you into your next period class. I'll email your excuse to Mr. Graboski. Better get going now."

"Thanks, Ms. Bell." Alan picked up his books and jacket and left the infirmary, heading for his next class.

The rest of the school day went by in a blur, except for strength training and lunch. In strength training, Mr. Beccara quizzed his students on the names of the muscle groups and equipment they had been studying. At lunch, everyone Alan sat with asked where Fermat was. A.J. approached the table where the older boys were settled, looking around hesitantly. Jason waved him to a chair so he sat down. Before A.J. could ask, Alan explained, "He's in the infirmary, sleeping off his medication."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." A.J. sounded surprised. He picked up his sandwich, took a bite, and while he chewed, he gazed at Alan with a puzzled expression. When his mouth was empty, he asked, "Alan? Fermat said your last name was Tracy."

Alan sighed while the others groaned. They had gone through this before: people would hear about "the son of Jeff Tracy" and try to either suck up to him for the sake of his father's influence and wealth or hassle him because they were jealous. The first were usually found out because they would try to shove the others, especially Fermat, aside. The second were dealt with by Alan's true friends, those who liked him for who _he_ was, not for who his father was. It helped that one requirement for hanging with Alan was to accept Fermat without reservation.

"Yeah, my last name is Tracy, and yeah, I'm the son of the billionaire ex-astronaut." Alan grimaced, his tone indicating that he'd heard this all before. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

A.J. straightened, giving Alan a perplexed look. "Uh, actually... no. I wanted to know if you were any relation to John G. Tracy. He's my favorite astronomy author."

Alan's jaw dropped. Jason and Ralph exchanged amused glances as Qaeshon smacked Alan's upper arm, grinning. Suddenly, Alan laughed and the other three joined in. A.J. glanced from one boy to the other, consternation on his features. "Wha.. what did I say?"

The laughter wound down, but Alan kept grinning. "I like you, A.J. You sure know how to cut a guy down to size."

"Yeah, and if there's anyone whose ego needs trimming, it's Pinky's!" Qaeshon quipped. Alan feigned outrage, smacking his friend lightly on the head.

"Oookay." A.J. still sounded wary. "But you haven't answered my question. Are you related to John Tracy?"

Alan nodded. "Yeah, I am. John's the second eldest in our family. Sorry about laughing, but most people know me as the son of Jeff Tracy instead of the brother of John."

"Well, there were a few seniors last year who knew you as brother of Gordon," Ralph reminded him.

"True." Alan nodded. "What made you ask about John, A.J.?"

A.J. gauged his words carefully. "Well, you do sort of look like him."

"I'd better!" Alan quipped. "Dad would be a little concerned if I didn't." He took a bite of sandwich. When he was done chewing, he observed, "You look like you don't believe me, A.J." Putting down his food, he fumbled around in his backpack to pull out his wallet, extracting a picture from it. "Here. I think you'll recognize John in the picture. It was taken back in July."

A.J. took the picture to examine it carefully. It was a group picture of Alan, Fermat, and five other older men, one obviously old enough to be Alan's father, plus a pretty Asian girl. They were all wearing swimsuits; all but the oldest looked as if they had been swimming. He nodded as he picked out the bleached blond hair and facial features of his favorite author. "Nice family. Is that girl your sister?"

"Who? Tin-Tin? Nah, she's just a friend." Alan waved a dismissive hand. He reached for the picture, but Ralph snatched it first and whistled as he saw Tin-Tin.

"Just a friend, huh? She's hot, Pinky!" Ralph handed the picture to Jason, who responded with a low whistle of his own.

Jason avoided Alan's grasping hand and sent the snapshot to Qaeshon, who grinned. "Oh, yeah! She is _nice_! What's she doing with a loser like you?" Alan rolled his eyes and retrieved the photo, sliding it back into his wallet before stashing the leather pouch in his pack again.

Ralph glanced up at the clock. "Hey, we'd better hurry up. Next period starts in fifteen."

"Right." Alan crammed a piece of sandwich in his mouth. He was busy chewing it as he saw Devdan Israni go by. "Ev!" he called, his speech obscured by the food. He finished chewing and called out again, "Dev!"

Devdan started. He glanced around, finally turning to see Alan frantically waving him over. "Yes, Mr. Tracy?" he asked as he approached. He scanned the table, frowning. "Where is young Mr. Hackenbacker?"

"He's in the infirmary. His medication's giving him trouble. Ms. Bell said she might release him late this afternoon, so he might not make tryouts." 

"Ah! I understand. I will tell Mr. Feng. We will work around it. Thank you for notifying me."

"No problem, Dev. Talk to you later!"

"Yes." Devdan nodded as he turned to go. "Have a good afternoon."

Alan took a last bite of sandwich. He collected his tray, grabbing his brownie for consumption on the way out. The other boys followed his lead to the tray return before splitting up and going their separate ways.

* * *

"Tracy! Get warmed up!" Coach Evans called as Alan jogged toward him. Alan nodded. He joined the small group warming up for the run. After ten minutes, the group joined the coach and Xavion Lewis, the team captain, at track's midpoint.

"Now, the course is five kilometers long, which is standard for this level of competition," the coach explained. "It's been marked with flags and will take you around the outskirts of the campus. You must stay within two meters of the flags at all times. Bear left at red flags, but pass them on the right. Bear right at the yellow. Take care to pass those on the left. Go straight at the blue flags; you can pass them on either side. There will be spotters along the route to make sure you're following directions. When you come down off the course, you'll see a roped off 'chute' to the finish line. You must stay within the ropes for your time to count. Remember, cross-country is a team sport so more than one of you will be chosen to represent Wharton. Let's go."

Alan joined the others at the starting line. The group of roughly ten boys ranged across the track, waiting for the starting signal. Alan glanced over to see that Xavion had an air horn out. Without warning, the horn went off and the gaggle of boys was in motion.

They raced down half one side of the track's oval before veering off into the grassy area surrounding the field. Blue flags beckoned ahead; the small group passed them on either side. Alan found himself in the fourth position. _Not a bad place to be, especially if the others tire. Just make sure you pace yourself like John taught you._

The terrain was different from what Alan was used to. Spongy, short cut grass gave way to leafy forest, and, for a stretch, to a familiar dirt path where Alan had raced motorbikes last spring. He kept up his pace, not falling behind but not surging forward, passing each flag on the proper side as he came to it. They branched off the dirt path into a slightly swampy area where Alan's running shoes squelched beneath his feet, and then into a pine wood, where his foot slipped at one point on the treacherous needles. He regained his footing and soldiered on.

Alan was used to hot, humid conditions; the air on this course was cool and dry. It felt odd in his lungs as he switched from aerobic to anaerobic breathing. He opened his mouth slightly to increase his oxygen intake and ran right into a floating group of midges. "Bleh!" His tongue worked hard to get rid of the unwanted protein; his face screwed up in an expression of disgust. Still, he had encountered worse in the tropical climes where he, John, and occasionally Scott, had run, so he didn't falter.

As he passed the next set of blue flags, he stepped up his pace a bit, moving from fourth to third in the lineup. The path wound up a small hillock, making him work hard to keep his new position, much as he did when his brothers raced him up to the transmitter mast. A brief memory flashed through his mind: one of following Tin-Tin up that incline in a race against time. He put it aside. All that mattered was this race, this moment. The flags directed him to the left again. He passed them on the right and kept running.

 _We're headed back to the field now. Once we get into the funnel, I won't be able to pass. I need to make my move soon._ Blue flags ahead indicated a straightaway. _Gotta do it now, if I'm going to do it at all._

Putting on a burst of speed, he passed the second place runner, taking up his position. He cut back on his stride just a touch, running faster than before but still pacing himself. Looking ahead, he saw there was a rather wide gap between himself and the leader. _Don't think I can pass him but I_ can _close the gap. C'mon, Tracy, just a little harder now._

He did, closing the gap to a few yards as they came down a small hill, in sight of the track once more. The leader put on a burst of speed all his own, widening the gap again. Determined to come in on his heels, Alan did the same. Still, the leader couldn't be caught. Alan crossed the finish line in second place. He breathed heavily to satisfy his oxygen-starved lungs as he walked around, trying to lower his heart rate while staving off leg cramps. He felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he found the first place runner, a boy he knew as Erik, holding out his hand. Alan grinned and took it, shaking it firmly.

"Nice race," Erik breathed.

"You, too," Alan panted. Together they walked over to where a large orange cooler stood, pouring themselves water from its spigot. Alan gulped down two cups before crumpling up the paper container, tossing it into the nearby trash can.

He glanced over at the coach, who was gathering the boys together in the center of the field. When everyone had circled around him, he said, "You did really well today, men. No one fell and no one dropped out. That's the attitude I like to see: perseverance. While you were out running, those who were interested in the hurdles had their tryouts and they had the same attitude. Keep going; don't give up. Now I can make the selections for the team. I'll be honest; with the talent I've seen this week, it'll be hard to do. But as I said before, if you don't make the cut, don't take it personally. Find another of our extracurricular clubs that could use your skills and never-say-die attitude." He paused. "The final team roster will be posted on the sports bulletin board in the Student Union and on the school's sports webpage by tomorrow noon. Okay, you're dismissed."

Alan jogged over to pick up his jacket. Xavion stopped pulling up the stakes which created the chute; sauntering over, he ruffled Alan's hair. "You did good out there, Tracy."

"Thanks!" Alan grinned. "My brother and I did some cross country this summer. He ran for Harvard when he was in college."

"Cool. I bet he'll be proud of you." Xavion sighed. "Wish Kay would take an interest in a sport. But that's just not his bag, and I respect it. Especially after the other night."

"Yeah. He's got a lot of musical talent. Kinda like my brother." Alan finished zipping up his jacket. "See you 'round, Zave."

He jogged off without looking back, leaving Xavion staring after him with a puzzled frown. With a huff, the older boy shrugged his shoulders before returning to his task.


	8. Understandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fermat wakes up, and Jeff finally calls.

Fermat woke up much later feeling a lot less groggy, but as he squinted and gazed around he felt apprehensive. _Where am I?_ he wondered. _I don't recognize..._

His attention was caught by a sudden motion to his right. A familiar voice called out, "Well, good afternoon, sleepy head. How are you feeling?"

"I f-feel much b-b-better, Ms. B-Bell." He relaxed as a fuzzy dark form came up to him, opened a drawer (he could hear it), and handed him a familiar object. Before he could put his glasses on, she stopped him.

"Hold up. I want to check your eyes." She took something from a pocket; without warning, a bright light shining flicked once, twice, three times in the right eye and then repeated in the left. "Okay. You can put your glasses on now."

He followed her instructions and the world came into focus again. "How's the arm?" she asked, moving his arm up and down at the shoulder.

A twinge from within the cast made him hiss, so she stopped. "Hurts a little or a lot?"

"A little."

Ms. Bell smiled. "All right, I'm going to put you on naproxen. It should last twelve hours but shouldn't make you drowsy. Since it's a twelve hour medicine, I want you to take it at meals, just for consistency's sake. Right now, I'll give you a dose of aceteminophen to hold you over until dinner. Come by before dinner and breakfast, just as you have been, okay?"

"O-Okay." Fermat glanced at his watch. "Hey! I might b-be able t-to make my t-t-t... my test!"

"And what test would this be?" 

"T-Tryouts for the academic qu-quiz t-team!"

She handed him a tiny paper cup with two pills in it. "Well, that explains why Devdan Israni came by here about a half hour ago, asking after you."

"He did?" Fermat dumped the pills into his palm and popped the medicine in his mouth, following up with the cup of water Ms. Bell handed him.

"Yes. I told him not to expect you, but it seems you might be able to catch him after all."

With a grin, he hopped awkwardly from the bed to a chair, where he slipped into his loafers. "C-Can I go now?"

"Let me fill out the paperwork to discharge you. I need the names of your teachers so I can email excuses to them. Remember, it's your responsibility to make up the work you've missed today."

Glancing up from settling his sling around his neck, he nodded. "Y-Yes, ma'am."

Fifteen minutes later, Fermat was on his way, hurrying to the second floor of the Student Union, where the yearbook and various other clubs had offices and workrooms. His heavy load of books, coupled with his computer, slowed him down, leaving him huffing as he reached room 212. "Two-oh-eight, t-two-t-ten, here it i-is!"

He peered through the door's narrow window, hoping to catch the eye of Mr. Feng, who leaned against a desk, a timer in his hand, watching a small group of boys take a written test. The teacher glanced his way and motioned to someone else in the room, pointing in the direction of the door. A couple of boys glanced up as Devdan came to the door, opening it and speaking softly.

"Hello, Mr. Hackenbacker. We were not expecting you."

"M-Ms. B-Bell released m-me." Fermat kept his voice down. "A-Am I t-t-t... am I too late?"

"Late, yes." Devdan smiled. "But too late? No. Come in."

Fermat grinned. "Thanks!" 

* * *

Alan stepped out of the shower, enjoying how he felt. The hot water had relaxed him, leaving him feeling loose, happy, and at ease in his own skin as he dried himself with a thick towel. The little doubts about making the track team had washed away with his sweat. _I did my best today. I'm sure my name will be on the roster,_ he thought. _I'm sure of it!_

He opened the door between bathroom and bedroom just in time to hear his satellite phone ring. _Dad!_

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he picked up the phone, scrounging to find earpiece and microphone so he and his father could see each other. He then propped the phone atop the drawers in his wardrobe and answered the call.

Just as he expected, his dad smiled back at him. "Hey, Alan! How's it going?"

"Great, Dad, just great!" Alan pulled a pair of boxers from his drawer. He put them on, keeping an eye on his father. After all, at this angle, the camera could only see his face and possibly his shoulders.

"Did I catch you at a bad time, son?" A little wrinkle of concern creased Jeff's face. Alan's head kept bobbing up and down, almost sickeningly so; when it stilled for a second or two, his son's corn-colored hair was wet and sticking up in spikes.

"Nah, it's cool, Dad. Just got out of the shower after my tryouts." Alan tried to sound like he had tryouts every day of the week.

"Tryouts? For what, son?" Jeff sat back, startled as a large red blob seemed to swallow Alan whole, spitting out only his son's head, his damp blond spikes now plastered down in spots.

"Hang on a sec, Dad." Alan's phone, precariously leaned against a sock ball, fell from the dresser. He caught it nimbly, setting it back in place. "There, that's better."

Jeff, who for the past few moments had been subjected to a dizzying, jerky picture dominated by red, propped his head up in one hand, elbow on the arm of his chair, shading his eyes with that hand. He shook his head slowly. "Alan, you could have told me you were getting dressed. I would have waited."

"Nah, Dad, it's cool! I'm almost done." Alan's head kept bobbing up and down as he slipped into a pair of clean jeans. With a little hop to settle the jeans around his hips, he fastened the fly. "There!" He picked up the phone, grabbed the supporting sock ball, and took both to his desk.

Jeff chuckled. Now his son's picture was stable but the background was not until Alan set the phone on his desk, bobbing down to put on his socks. "Alan, you haven't answered my question. Tryouts for what?"

"Oh, yeah!" Socks donned, Alan sat back in his chair. "Track team. I'm going out for track."

This brought a smile of genuine surprise and pleasure to Jeff's face. "Track team? Good for you! What events are you thinking about?"

"Well, high jump for one. Long jump, too. Today was the cross-country trial. I came in second!" Alan beamed.

"Way to go, son!" Jeff's experience with John's cross-country career taught him a second place finish was far from failure. "When do you find out if you made the cut?"

"Tomorrow afternoon." Alan rubbed his hands together. "I can hardly wait!"

"Want me to pass the word along to John? You know he'll be interested."

"Yeah, that'd be great!"

Jeff nodded, settling back in his chair. "How are classes going?"

"So far, so good. Fermat's helping me with math and I think I'm getting the concepts we're studying. But ... I'm taking strength training and so far it's a bore. We're studying the muscle groups and equipment. It's like a beginner's course. I'm afraid I'll lose all the muscle tone I gained over the summer."

"Well, reviewing the basics won't hurt." Jeff stroked his chin. "Why not tell your teacher you did some weight training over the summer? Maybe he can give you permission to work in the weight room outside of class."

Alan looked thoughtful. "That's a good idea, Dad. Thanks."

"Are you getting along with your new roommate?"

Alan nodded his head eagerly. "Oh yeah! My roommate is Lee Sugimoto, the biggest athlete and most popular guy at school! He suggested I go out for track. He's got an away soccer game right now or I'd introduce you. We're getting along just fine."

"So you're not missing Fermat?" Jeff smiled a little, the corners of his mouth subtly quirking upward.

The boy's expression turned thoughtful again. "Well, yes and no. I mean, Fermat's roommate was a pain in the ass at first. If we'd been sharing a room, Fermat wouldn't have broken his arm. We could have kept up with that last rescue, too." He shrugged. "On the other hand, I probably wouldn't have gone out for track if Sugi wasn't here. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think I do." Jeff nodded. He shifted in his seat. "You said Fermat's roommate was a pain at first. What changed your mind?"

"Fermat did. They came to some kind of agreement; sort of started over. Now A.J.'s part of the gang. He's still learning how to fit in, but he's trying and so are we. Oh, hey! Tell John he has a fan! A.J. loves John's books. In fact, he asked me this morning if I was John's brother! That was a switch!"

"Who do people ask you about otherwise?" Jeff was already sure that he knew the answer.

Alan rolled his eyes and snorted. "Daaaad! The multi-billionaire and astronaut hero, Jeff Tracy, of course." He bounced his head around as he said it, acting like he;d heard it so much he was reciting by rote, ending the line by leaning in to give his father a mock glare.

"Oh! I didn't know it was so tough being my son," Jeff retorted with a half-smile and a facetious tone.

"It can be." Alan suddenly sobered. "It can be when people want to be your friend because of who your father is instead of who you are inside. When people compare you to your father and you..." He sighed. "You don't come up to their expectations."

Jeff nodded in sympathy. "Believe it or not, son, I do understand. All your brothers went through the same thing, some more than others." He paused. "I can't help being who and what I am, son. I'm afraid you're stuck with me. But you? You can be someone unique all on your own. Problem is, first you have to figure out what that is. You don't have to live in my shadow, Alan, not unless you want to."

"Yeah, I know." Alan shrugged. "You're right about one thing: I've got to figure out who I want to be on my own." He drew in a deep breath. "Y'know, I never thought about it like this before but maybe being away gives me the space to do that." He looked down and was silent for a moment; when he glanced up again, Jeff could see he was trying hard to control his emotions. The boy shrugged one shoulder, attempting to look nonchalant. "Sometimes though ... I guess I miss you guys."

His father smiled. "You sure it's us you miss and not the 'Birds?"

Alan snorted a laugh. "Well, maybe I miss both." He paused for a moment, gazing at his dad, trying to gauge what kind of answer he would get to his next question. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"If I make the track team, will you ... will you come to a meet?"

Jeff sat back at the question and slowly nodded. "If you make the team, send me the schedule, and I'll see what I can do. You know what life is like here; we never know from one moment to the next what's going to happen. Still, I will try, that much I can promise."

He was pleased to see his son smile widely. "Great! That would be fantastic!" Suddenly Alan looked away. "Someone's at the door, Dad. It might be Sugi. Can you wait a minute?"

"Sure, son. I can wait."

"Come in!" Alan shouted, forgetting about the boom mike he was using. Jeff winced at the shout, taking his earphone out to put his pinky in his ear just a bit, wiggling the digit around.

The door opened and Fermat all but burst into the room. "A-Alan! I m-m-m-m..."

"Slow down, Fermat!" Alan turned back to the phone. "Hey, Dad, it's Fermat."

Jeff waved. "Hello, Fermat!"

Alan relayed the message. "Dad says, 'Hello'. Why're you so hot and bothered?"

"N-Nothing! It's j-j-j... I made the team!" He turned to the picture of the man in the office chair. "I made the team, M-Mr. T-Tracy!"

"Dad, he said..."

"I heard him, son. Tell him congratulations for me!"

"Dad says, 'Congratulations!'"

Fermat made motions with his free hand as if to leave. "I-I'm gonna h-h-h... rush back to my r-r-r... quarters to t-t-t... inform my d-d-d-DAD! Wanted you to b-be the f-f-first to know!"

Alan laughed. "Hey, thanks, Fermat! Want me to help carry your stuff?"

"W-Would you? I'd a-a-a... be thankful!" Fermat replied.

"Okay." Alan turned to his father. "Dad? I'm gonna help Fermat get his stuff back to his dorm. Talk to you later?"

"Sure, Alan." Jeff said with a grin. "Tag's on you, now." 

"Roger that! I'll call tomorrow and tell you the news about the team, good or bad. Promise."

"Okay, son. Looking forward to it. Have a good evening."

"Have a good day, Dad. Bye!"

The call ended. Alan sat back with a satisfied sigh and put his phone away. He pointed to the closet. "Get my sneakers, please?"

"Have a g-g-good conversation with y-your d-dad?" Fermat asked, his head in the closet, looking for Alan's everyday athletic shoes. He found one and tossed it without looking to Alan, who fielded it handily. He did the same with the other, smacking Alan in the knee. It bounced off, landing some distance away.

Alan got up to fetch it. "Yeah. He said that if I make the track team, he'll try to come to a meet!" Returning to his desk chair, he donned the second shoe. 

"C-Cool!" Fermat kicked the remaining shoes back into the wardrobe and closed the doors.

Now shod, Alan got up and grabbed Fermat's bookbag. "Come on. Let's get you back to Maplewood so you can tell _your_ dad _your_ good news!"

"Yeah!" Fermat shouldered his laptop bag. "A-And you can t-t-tell me about the c-cross-country r-race."

Alan turned out the lights on his way out. As they entered the elevator, he was heard to say, "When did you get out of the infirmary anyway?"


	9. Undercurrents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fermat calls home. A.J. gets a lesson. Another bit of mystery comes to light, and the rosters go up.

After carrying Fermat's stuff back to the dorm, Alan hung around to say hello when his friend called home with the good news about quiz team.

"Y-Your father told me about the t-t-t... field tryouts, A-Alan." Brains's grin encompassed both boys. He gave a thumbs-up. "I-I hope you m-m-m... I hope you are on the t-t-team."

"Me too, Brains." Alan nodded, returning the grin.

A.J. walked in during the call so Fermat dragged him over to introduce him to his father.

"Hello, Mr. Hackenbacker," the younger boy said politely. "It's nice to meet you."

"N-Nice to m-m-m... make your a-acquaintance, too, A.J.," Brains responded, using the nickname Fermat and the others had already given to him. "I h-hear you and F-F-F... my son had a r-rocky start. I'm g-g-g... happy that you're now g-g-g... that you've started o-over. I think you m-may have m-m-more in common than y-you think."

"Thank you, Mr. Hackenbacker." Andrew stood a bit straighter, clasping his hands behind his back. "I've never had a roommate before and I've got a lot to learn it seems."

"Y-You'll do f-f-fine." .

Alan helped himself to a soda from Fermat's stash and drank it while the two said their goodbyes. Last year it had been hard to watch Fermat and Brains's warm and easy relationship. Not any more. Events during spring and summer breaks enabled him and Jeff repair the bridges they'd damaged with their constant sparring. He also drew closer to his brothers, especially John, who he barely saw because a human presence was needed in Thunderbird Five. Having him home for the entire summer while the others repaired and rebuilt the space station was a welcome change.

Repairs had been scheduled in two week stints, with the repair crew spending a week on Earth together before going up for another two weeks. John flew up for the final two week stint with orders to work solely on the computers. His injuries took most of the summer to heal; his father would not allow a return to duty until they had. 

"B-Bye, Dad." Fermat waved slightly at the screen. "L-Love you!"

Brains responded in kind and Fermat ended the call. Alan sighed. He and his dad didn't say they loved each other very often but since the Hood's attack on the island, they embraced more to show how much they cared. He glanced over at A.J. who lay on his bed, hands behind his head. _Wonder how A.J. gets along with his dad? He said his father took him to London and they went to the Eye. That must have been fun._

"H-Hey, A.J." Fermat's tone was purposefully cheerful. "We sh-should clean the r-room tonight so we have a-all day t-tomorrow to g-g-g... have fun. You with m-me?"

"I suppose." A.J. shrugged, not budging from his place or even looking at his roommate. "Except, I don't know what to do."

"I'll teach you," Alan said firmly. "But don't think I'm going to do it _for_ you. C'mon. I'll show you where to find the cleaning supplies."

A.J. sighed heavily and got up, following Alan out, with Fermat taking up the rear. Fermat motioned for A.J. to put his hand up to the lock on the closet where the cleaning materials were kept. "Th-The closet's lock is p-programmed with the h-h-handprints of those who l-live in the dorm a-and it logs when w-we open the closet. That helps k-keep t-track of the s-s-supplies and who h-h-has them."

Alan pulled out cleaning chemicals and paper towels, handing them to the youngest boy. Fermat maneuvered a vacuum cleaner out with his good hand, dragging it along after him. While Alan showed A.J. the finer points of bathroom cleaning, Fermat vacuumed and disposed of the trash. They were required to change their sheets for Saturday inspections; since Alan was a pro at stripping and remaking top bunks, he helped both boys, giving A.J. instruction as he did.

A.J. scowled. "I never knew I'd be learning how to keep house while at school."

"Hey, it's called 'fulfilling potential'," Alan quipped, remembering parts of the brochure he'd read at the beginning of the year. "Something Wharton's supposed to be good at."

"H-Here I thought it w-was 'b-building character'," Fermat riposted with a grin. "Last year's b-b-b... flyer said that."

A.J. listened to the easy banter, his head turning back and forth as the two continued to joke around. _This is so... interesting. I've never had friends who I could do this with._ He cleared his throat. "Are you sure it's not ... uh ... 'mastering esoteric skills'?" The other two boys stopped to stare at him for a long moment, their mouths open. They glanced at each other quickly and burst into peals of laughter.

"Was it that funny?" he asked, confused.

Alan wiped an eye. "Yeah, it was. What does 'esoteric' mean?"

A.J. blinked. "Uh... I don't know, really. I found it in one of the brochures my dad read while he researched where to send me this year."

Alan pointed at Fermat. "Brain? 'Ey, Brain?" His faux Cockney accent sounded like a bad imitation of Parker, Lady Penelope's roguish butler. "Wot does eso... asso... eh-sot-tear-hic mean?"

Fermat brought his voice down as low as he could. "P-Pinky! Don't d-disturb me while I'm t-trying to ... t-take over the world!"

They howled with laughter again while A.J. looked the word up on his computer. "Of or related to that which is known by a restricted number of people; see mysterious." He shook his head. "I still don't get it."

"Don't try, A.J.," Alan counseled. "Just take my word for it, it was funny!"

"So, what's left to do?" A.J. asked, looking around. He didn't see much difference to the room but silently admitted how pleasant it would be to sleep on clean sheets.

Fermat indicated the windows. "The w-windows, from the i-inside only. B-But we have w-w-w... we have to do it in the d-d-daylight."

Alan nodded, snorting softly. "Yeah. I'd better get back to my own dorm and clean my bathroom. Sugi and I haven't discussed the cleaning schedule, but I think he'd want me to have the scut job anyway."

"We'll p-put away th-the stuff. Wh-When my a-arm heals up, w-we can sh-share doing the b-b-b... restroom." He held up his cast. "But until I g-get this off, I j-just can't d-do it."

"I guess I can see why," A.J. admitted, sighing.

Alan shot his empty soda can into the freshly emptied trash bin. "He shoots, he scores!" He slid into his jacket. "Gotta go. See you tomorrow, guys. I may not be at breakfast but I'll be at the game room later. The final track roster goes up tomorrow after noon."

"See you l-later, g-gator!" Fermat walked his friend to the door.

"Later!"

Fermat returned to his room to find his roommate making a phone call. He quietly retrieved a soda from the fridge and brought his computer to life.

"Hello, Chivers? Yes, it's me. Is my father available?" A.J. waited for a moment. Fermat studiously kept his eyes on his computer screen, trying to read the email from Tin-Tin.

"Geneva? Hmm." A.J. said, glancing at his watch. "Too late to call him there." He shook his head. "No, no emergency. But if he checks in, please tell him ... tell him I called? Thank you. Goodbye."

A.J. folded up his phone with a sad, thoughtful look and put it back in its charger. He sighed once more, rummaging in the fridge for a bottle of juice before pulling out a book to read.

Fermat felt he had to say something. "Y-You okay?"

"Yes, I am. My dad's in Geneva. I'll call him in the morning."

The older boy nodded as he turned back to Tin-Tin's missive. _Boy, do I have a lot to tell her!_

* * *

"What's going on there?" As he walked home, Alan noticed the reflection of blue lights flashing. Curious, he cut across the grass to join the small crowd gathered on the walk behind Oakwood dorm. Two New Ashford police cars had parked along the sidewalk, along with one of Wharton's security team's cars. All eyes turned as an ambulance slowly moved up to join them. Two paramedics jumped out, opening the back of their transport. Mr. Magnuson beckoned to them from the far corner of the building. One, a young woman, wheeled a gurney in his direction, while her partner, a husky older man, followed with a toolbox. 

Alan spied Jason in the crowd and threaded his way through to join him. "What's up?" 

"Someone got beat up." Jason glanced at Alan before turning his attention back to the unfolding events. "I think it was the yearbook editor, Dominic Bertoli. Somebody found him in the bushes behind Oakwood. He's not badly hurt, but the attack aggravated his asthma ... here he comes now."

The paramedics came back, a dark haired boy strapped to the gurney with an oxygen mask over his face. Mr. Magnuson followed. The professionals loaded him into the ambulance. The security chief climbed in after them. The young woman took the wheel and the transport pulled away, lights still flashing, the siren blaring once as it headed back down the access road.

"Okay, boys!" Mr. Culp, one of the regular, uniformed security officers, appeared in the ambulance's wake. "You've seen what there is to see. Time to move along!"

Alan glanced at Jason. "Let's go." The two friends returned to the sidewalk in front of Oakwood and walked toward Birchwood. "This is the second attack on a student." Alan jammed his hands in his pockets. "Maybe now the police will take things more seriously."

"I hope so." Jason nodded. "I'd hate for my folks to pull me out. This was going to be a good year."

* * *

Saturday breakfast was normally sparsely attended, mostly because the boys were either sleeping in or frantically cleaning in preparation for the weekly inspections. However, Fermat was up and about. He left A.J. sleeping in their room, stopping at the infirmary for his medicine before hustling on to the dining hall. He liked getting up early on Saturday; he usually found a seat with a different group of boys than those he sat with during the week. He often got a different perspective on things that went on at the school and, at that particular meal, students seemed open to newcomers as well.

Fermat got his food, glancing around to see if anyone he knew could help him with it. He didn't see anyone at first, so he tried to balance his tray between his abdomen and free hand until he heard a welcome, familiar voice. "Having trouble, Brain? Hold on. Let me put my tray down."

"Thanks, Kay." Fermat smiled gratefully. Qaeshon set the tray he carried on a table--one where his brother, Xavion, sat--before returning to fetch Fermat's meal. Fermat followed; Xavion greeted him and introduced him to the others.

One of the boys, Erik Tolbert, paused his eating long enough to ask, "You were Alan Tracy's roommate last year, weren't you?".

"Y-Yes, I was." Fermat nodded as he cut up his pancakes with a fork.

Erik smiled. "He's a good runner. He and I were both trying out for cross-country yesterday."

Fermat's eyes widened as he made the connection. "O-O-Oh! You're _th-that_ Erik! Alan t-told me about y-you. Nice t-to meet y-you."

"Same here."

The boys fell quiet as they ate until Qaeshon broke the silence as he cut up his sausage. "So, did you all hear about Dominic Bertoli?" 

Fermat shook his head. "I d-don't know him. W-What happened?"

"He was attacked last night." Xavion's voice was dark and angry. "Seems someone decided he was an easy target, kinda like Kay the other night." His brows furrowed and his lips set in a hard line. "He wasn't hurt much, but the whole thing made his asthma flare up bad. They took him to the hospital."

A student from the next table leaned his chair back to speak with Fermat's tablemates. "I hear the administration's considering it an isolated incident of bullying. The police aren't taking it very seriously."

"They should." Xavion's scowl got deeper. "The more this happens the more it's gonna happen, if you get my drift."

There were general murmurs of assent from the others at the table. The topic shifted to the previous evening's soccer game, which Wharton had won in overtime.

Fermat and Qaeshon exchanged glances, the latter looking worried. "You think these creeps have something against yearbook people? I mean, I'm on the staff and Dom's the editor."

Fermat chewed it over in his head for a bit. "I-I don't know, K-Kay. You said th-they told you that y-you should be going out f-for sports, right?"

"Yeah, they did. But what has that got to do with anything?"

"D-Dominic has always i-i-i... seemed to m-me to be a s-s-sports oriented kinda g-guy." Fermat took a sip of milk. "I-I was s-s-s... taken a-a-aback that he didn't g-go out for s-sports, but n-now I know wh-why. His a-asthma must be pretty b-bad to k-k-keep him from p-playing."

"From what I understand, it is. He's on a couple of different medications for it as well as an inhaler that he uses a lot. You may be onto something there, Brain. I hope this doesn't happen again, but if it does, we'll have to see if one or the other of the patterns fit." Kay snorted a laugh. "Listen to us. We sound like we're in some detective thriller."

Fermat chuckled, too. "Y-You're right, we do. Hackenbacker and L-Lewis, p-private eyes."

They laughed again, drawing glances from the other boys at the table.

* * *

The games room in the Student Union was usually crowded on Saturdays and this one was no exception. Freshmen learning their way around stopped by for a quick game of foosball or air hockey. A handful of chess team members played, watched by their teammates, and by Mr. Feng, the room's official faculty monitor at that point of the day. The pinball and vid games made their usual racket. The ping pong and pool tables saw heavy use. Short lines of players waited their turns at the four VR stations. Players for the VR games had only twenty-minutes at a time. No matter how far they got in the game by that point, the game stopped, saving automatically so players could later pick up where they left off. It took a lot of memory to keep track of it all. Fortunately, Wharton had the best in computer servers. They had to; computers were a staple of life in the 2020s. Parents expected the school to have top of the line systems, especially considering how much tuition they paid.

Alan played foosball with Jason, one of his fiercest competitors. He also kept half an eye on the time, which interfered with his concentration. Jason noticed and took full advantage of the situation. He brought the ball down past Alan's defense. With a savage spinning "kick", he drove it into the goal for the winning point.

"Awww!" Alan put both hands over his face, throwing his head back and stomping a foot.

Jason jeered. "Drama queen." 

Alan grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, but you love me anyway." He made kissy lips and noises in Jason's general direction.

"Get out!" Half annoyed, half facetiously, Jason waved a hand as if to push Alan away. "Okay, who's next?"

Fermat walked in, A.J. at his heels. The younger boy gazed all around him, his mouth slightly open. Fermat noticed. "Was there a-anything like this wh-where you went to school b-b-b... last year?"

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't this ... noisy. Or big. And there weren't so many people..."

"Th-Things are different h-here. The g-games room opens every d-day. Hours are p-p-p... listed on the d-door. The pool is almost the s-same, except it's r-r-r... saved for the swim t-team after classes and there's a m-meet every other F-Friday night. To m-make up for it, there are e-e-e... more hours after d-dinner on Sunday."

A.J. seemed suddenly interested. "What else is there to do around here?" 

"There are u-u-u... almost always pick-up b-basketball games at the g-gym or the o-outside hoops and the t-tennis c-c-courts have hours p-posted."

"Golf? Is there any golf?"

Fermat stopped to think. "I'm n-not sure. You should ch-check the b-b-b... boards over there." He pointed in the direction of a series of large bulletin boards, covering nearly a whole wall. "Hey, here comes Zave!"

Xavion strode into the room, folder in hand, weaving his way through the crowd and picking up a following as he did so. Alan saw him come in and hurried over to the bulletin board.

"Looks like the t-t-track team roster is g-going up." Fermat nudged A.J. "Let's g-go see."

Xavion put up five pieces of paper, standing in front of the sheets, shielding them from sight with his body. The crowd pushed in behind him; at one point he turned and barked, "Back off. I need room!" The boys all took a step back, a few of the older ones putting out their arms to help push back the crowd. Finally, he finished pinning up the lists and nimbly got out of the way as the boys surged forward.

The lists were for basketball, swimming, wrestling, track, and a final roster for soccer. Alan kept bobbing up and down, trying to see over heads, hoping to spot his own name. At last he made his way to the front. He located the proper list and scanned down it. He frowned and looked again, reading it more carefully. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

Fermat, who had managed to squeeze past some of the boys still checking the rosters, poked Alan in the ribs. Alan turned to him, his face still a study in surprise. "W-Well?" 


	10. Undulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the answer to the question on everyone's mind: did Alan make the team!? Chatter over snacks. Alan and A.J. establish an understanding. Alan gets an unpleasant surprise and a father/son talk.

"Well?" Concerned at his friend's expression, Fermat repeated his question.

Alan broke into a big grin, punching the air with a jubilant shout "Four! Four events!" He counted them off on his fingers. "High jump, long jump, cross-country and alternate on javelin! I wasn't expecting javelin!"

"Woo hoo!" Fermat slapped his friend on the shoulder, his grin as wide as Alan's. "C-Congratulations!"

"Yes! Congratulations, Alan!" A.J.'s face brightened with a smile. "You did well!"

"Yeah, Pinky. You did well in tryouts." Xavion Lewis stood before Alan, his face serious. "Let's see how well you do in competition." He glared at his younger teammate for just a moment more before his face relaxed into a smile and he held out his hand. "Welcome to the team."

Alan took the hand and shook it. "Thanks, Zave. I'm gonna work my butt off, you'll see."

"I hope to. Practice starts after classes on Monday." Xavion scanned the room. "Now, I have a few more guys to corral-- and congratulate. Later, Pinky."

The trio watched as the senior walked off into the crowd of boys. Alan turned to his companions, smacking Fermat lightly on the chest. "C'mon, you two! Milkshakes at the snack shop and I'm buying!"

"C-Cool!" Fermat grinned. "Let's g-go!"

* * *

At the snack shop--one of the other amenities to be found in the Student Union building--Alan, Fermat and A.J. were joined by Jason and Ralph.

Grinning, Jason held out a fist for Alan to bump with his own. "Congrats, Pinky! You did it!"

Alan bumped fists with both Jason and Ralph as they each pulled out a seat at Alan's table. "Thanks, guys!"

"Yeah, bask in the moment because now the hard work begins." Ralph paused to lick his ice cream cone. "If Zave is anything like Sugi--"

"He'll be busting our butts from here to Thanksgiving." Alan slurped his milkshake, nodding. "I know, believe me. Still, if I can survive a summer with my brother Scott doing the same in strength training, I can survive Zave. After all, Zave hasn't served in the military. Scott has."

"Hey, can I join you guys?"

"Oh, hey! Erik! Sure, come on and join us!" Alan motioned to a seat at the long table. "I saw you made the team, too. Congrats!"

"Yeah, cross-country and 1500 meters." Erik settled down beside Fermat. "My two best events. You got four! Congratulations! Jumping is just not my thing."

Fermat turned to him. "I w-wonder what Xavion d-does on the t-team? D-Do you know?"

"Relays and sprints," Erik replied. "He was a wicked pole vaulter, too, until he tore a ligament in his shoulder. I looked at last year's record books, 'cause I was curious. Hey, there was another kid named Tracy in the books from a few years ago, on the swim team. Any relation?"

Alan laughed. "Yeah, my older brother, Gordon. The way he swims, he's practically a fish."

"Now I think I understand." Xavion came around the corner and approached the group, a bag of chips in his hand. "How many brothers have you got, Pinky?" He sat down at the table without asking and popped a chip in his mouth. As he crunched, he pointed a finger at Alan. "First you tell me your brother ran track for Harvard. Next, he's musical. Now I hear about a swimmer? Can't be just one guy; he'd have to be Superman to do it all."

Alan took another slurp of his strawberry milkshake. "You mean Kay hasn't told you? I've got four older brothers, all of them overachievers in one area or another. Scott's the oldest and a military man; he and next-in-line brother John ran with me this summer. John's an astronomer, an author, and he's the one who ran cross-country for Harvard. Virgil's in the middle; he's the musical one and an artist, too. Gordon went here a few years ago. I'm surprised you didn't hear about him; he's the swimmer. Won a lot of meets for Wharton. And then ... there's me. " He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head with a self-satisfied smile, "Baby of the family and about to make a name for myself in track and field here."

"As long as that name isn't 'Mud'." Jason snickered. Those around the table laughed, Alan included, as he brought his chair down with a thud.

Zave leaned his chair back on two feet. "Those are some names your brothers have. I mean, Virgil and Gordon?"

Alan shrugged. "We're all named after the Mercury astronauts. Dad thought it was cool." He took a long pull on his straw, slurping until he reached the bottom of the cup. "Hey, you and Kay can't talk."

Xavion chuckled. "Yeah, I guess we can't. Mom wanted us named after the weird letters of the alphabet. That's why my sisters are Yvette and Zoe."

The others chuckled at his explanation. The talk at the table turned to more general topics. A.J. watched and listened as he finished his vanilla milkshake, wondering how he could make his own mark with the group. Finally, Alan looked at his watch. "I need to call my dad. I promised I'd tell him about the tryout results."

"Oh!" A.J. started, reminded of his own father. "I should call my father, too. The time zones are favorable."

"You have that problem, too?" Alan grinned as he got up.

"At the moment, yes. My father's in Geneva right now."

"C'mon. We can walk back to the dorms together," Alan offered. "Fermat, you coming?"

The bespectacled boy shook his head. "N-No. I want t-to play some p-p-pinball."

"Okay, that's cool. See you later, Brain. Bye, guys." Alan raised a hand in farewell, and so did A.J.

The boys at the table said goodbye to them both by name, and A.J. felt good. _It's like... I **belong**._

* * *

Alan glanced over at A.J. as they walked. "So, your Dad's in Geneva?"

"Yes, that's where the world courts are. He's a lawyer specializing in international law." He looked up at the taller boy. "What does your father do?"

Alan laughed. "Well, he's walked on the moon, been a decorated hero, but right now, he makes money, lots of money." He glanced down at A.J. "Ever heard of Tracy Industries?"

A.J. frowned a bit, thinking this over. Suddenly, his face cleared. "Ohhh! _That_ Tracy Industries!" He looked Alan up and down. "Hmm. You don't dress like the son of a billionaire."

"Oh? And how should a billionaire's son dress?" Alan raised an eyebrow, smirking.

The question took A.J. by surprise. "I don't know. I guess ... all the latest fashions and gear. Designer labels plastered on your clothes and shoes. Things that scream, 'Hey! Look at me! I have money!' You don't dress like that."

"Nah." Alan shook his head. "My dad wasn't raised that way, so he didn't raise us that way. I mean, our clothes aren't rags, but Dad likes a good value for his dollar. Besides, if I dressed in all that designer crap, I'd be worrying too much about my clothes. Who wants to worry about that?" He shrugged. "If I looked like a billionaire's son, people wouldn't be interested in me for myself, but my dad's money. I don't need toadies for friends."

A.J. looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Interesting point-of-view." He put his hands in his pockets. They were nearly to Chetwood. "You always talk about your father. What about your mother? Doesn't she have a say in what you wear?"

Alan sighed, looking straight ahead. A.J. couldn't help but notice the sad expression on his face. "My mom--" The older boy cleared his throat. "My mom died when I was little. In an avalanche. I don't remember her much."

"I'm sorry." A.J.'s tone was sincere. "I didn't realize."

"I know. Ever since then it's been my dad, my brothers, and me." Alan swallowed, then changed the subject. "What about your mom? Fermat told me your parents are divorced."

It was A.J.'s turn to look straight ahead. "My mom might as well be dead for all the attention she gives me. She's always flying off to the latest hot spot, cuddling up to some man she expects me to call 'Uncle' when I visit; never the same man twice, it seems. I only see her at Christmas; she lives not far from my father and I have to see her then. Court order." He sighed. "The rest of the year; not much. Maybe a card and a gift at my birthday if I'm lucky. She never realizes how old I am or how much I've grown." They stopped in front of Chetwood. "Did your mom love you?"

Alan nodded slowly. "Yeah. She did."

"Then I'd say you had the better bargain," A.J. replied softly. "See you around, Alan."

He walked away, fists jammed in his pockets. Alan watched him go before turning to take the dorm steps two at a time, a sudden, intense desire to talk to his dad welling up inside.

* * *

Alan knocked on the door as Sugi had asked him. He could hear something shuffling around inside. Shifting from one foot to another, he waited, mulling over in his mind what he wanted to say to his dad. He didn't notice how long he stood outside his own room. Finally, he realized someone was in his room but he'd had no answer. He knocked again with a bit more force.

"It's okay. Come in."

Alan frowned as he put his hand up to the door's scanner. When the door opened, Lee's friend, Trey Mackenzie, pushed past him with a muttered, "Hey, Tracy."

"Hey, Mackenzie." Alan's greeting trailed off. He turned to enter his room and was virtually yanked inside by Lee.

"Don't just stand there, Tracy. Get in here!"

Alan shook off his roommate's hand and stared around at the room. A curious haze hung in the air, accompanied by a smell which made his nose wrinkle. The room was cooler than he liked, too, probably because Lee had the windows wide open.

"What the hell's going on?" Alan scowled. "Who's been smoking in here?"

Lee glared at him. "Keep your voice down, Tracy." He ducked into the bathroom, pulling out a can of air freshener and spraying it around. "Mackenzie." He raised a finger in warning. "It's not illegal. He's eighteen and can smoke if he likes."

Alan's scowl deepened. "Maybe he can, but why is he smoking in _here_?" 

Having finished with the air freshener, Lee exchanged it for some fabric deodorizer, spraying the fine mist all over his bedding before shoving the bottle into Alan's hands. "He's smoking in here because he can't smoke in his own room. Dom Bertoli's his roommate. He's got asthma; smoke would aggravate it."

"So, why can't he go smoke outside somewhere else? Like in his car, if he has one?"

"If you're not going to use that, give it back." Lee snatched the bottle from the younger boy again. He spritzed the draperies, pulling them across the window to get all of the fabric. Stopping for a moment, he pointed a finger at Alan. "He does smoke in other places. In his car, in the woods, wherever he thinks he won't be found. But it's getting colder and pretty soon he won't be able to smoke outside without freezing his butt off. So I'm letting him smoke in here."

"What happens when the administration finds out?" Alan folded his arms across his chest. "You know the rules about smoking on campus!"

"I've got it all worked out." Lee handed the deodorizer to Alan again. "Mackenzie will provide us with sprays to freshen the air and the bedding. Opening up the windows clears the smoke out quickly. He'll only smoke in here three times a week and only after inspection. The other days, he'll find other places, other friends. We can wash our bedding every time there's laundry day." He rounded on Alan, his face hard and his voice harder. He poked a finger in the younger boy's chest. "In fact, the only way the administration is going to find out, Tracy, is if _you_ tell them."

"What? You think they're stupid? You think they won't notice?" Alan poked his finger right back. "You think I want to walk around smelling like a cigarette butt? No way!"

Lee grabbed Alan's shirt, pulling their faces close together. "When you and I became roommates, I told you up front there might be things going on in here that the administration frowned on. You said you could keep quiet as long as it wasn't illegal. Now I'm calling you on that! What Trey is doing _isn't_ illegal; he's of age. So you keep your mouth shut, or else."

"Or else what?" Alan's expression hardened as he looked into Lee's eyes.

"Or else I will make your life hell on earth." Lee smiled, a savage expression. "I'm on the track team. I have sway with Coach and Zave. I'm popular; people will believe what I say about you. I can start a rumor that'll sweep the campus. I'll turn your friends against you and not even all your daddy's money can stop it from happening."

There was a long, tense silence between them before Alan slid his hands between Lee's wrists and shoved outward. "Hands off!" Once free of Lee's grasp, he walked over to his computer. Swiveling around, he threw the bottle of fabric spray back at the older boy. "Here. He's _your_ friend and _you're_ letting him smoke in here. You can do all the work covering it up, including _my_ bed. I'm outta here." Picking up his satellite phone, he picked up his jacket and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Alan strode to the grassy quadrangle around which the dorms were arranged. It was sunny but cool; he was glad for his jacket. He sat down with his back to one of the giant oaks which peppered the grassy rectangle. Looking up, he saw the sun glinting through the yellowing leaves. The lawn was covered with a sprinkling of such large, golden flakes. He watched as one floated down on a light breeze to land on the grass some distance away. Letting the far off sounds of birds and breeze calm him, he plugged in his earphone and dialed home.

The vidphone in the office rang. Jeff turned his chair to reach for it. He was pleased to see the call was from Alan.

"Hey, Dad."

Jeff was surprised to see how sober and tired his son looked. "Hello, Alan! What's up? What's the news on the track team?"

"The track team?" Alan brightened a bit. "Oh, yeah! I made the team. Four events: cross-country, long jump, high jump, and I'm an alternate on javelin."

"Hey! That's great! Congratulations!" Jeff smiled. "I didn't know you'd tried out for javelin."

"I did, but I wasn't expecting it." Alan's conversation trailed off; his father frowned in concern.

"You don't seem too happy about it. What's the matter?"

 _Do I tell him about the smoking? No, this is one thing I have to deal with myself._ Having made that decision, Alan flapped a hand. "Oh, I'm happy about track, believe me! It's just--it's Fermat's roommate, A.J. We walked back to the dorms together earlier. We talked a little about our families. He asked about Mom and I told him about her, and then he told me about his mom. She and his father are divorced; A.J. doesn't see her except on Christmas. The rest of the year, nothing. Maybe a birthday present." He puffed out a breath. "On top of that, his dad's out of the country a lot. I think they don't talk much."

"Sounds like he's pretty lonely." Jeff's voice was quiet.

"Yeah. I think he is. I'm glad Fermat brought him into our group. Maybe we can help."

Jeff nodded. "Maybe you can. So, tell me about the rest of your day."

Alan shrugged. "Not much to tell. Jason Cunningham beat me at foosball before the team roster went up. I treated Fermat and A.J. to milkshakes to celebrate. A.J. and I walked back to the dorms after that. Fermat wanted to play some pinball, so he stuck around the games room."

"How much homework do you have?"

"Some. I'll get it done, don't worry. Track practice starts after classes on Monday. I understand that Xavion Lewis, the team captain, will be busting our butts." he Alan gave his father a wry, lopsided smile.

"Hm. Lewis. Is he related to your friend Qaeshon?"

"Yeah, they're brothers. Zave is two years older and looks like he's two feet taller." Alan snorted. "I think he'll be almost as tough to please as Scott."

"I'm sure he will." Jeff grinned. "Hey, I see you're outside. Enjoying the sun?"

"Yeah, I am." Alan shrugged. "My roommate is entertaining a friend. Didn't want to intrude." _Now if he'll just buy that..._

Some little nuance in his son's speech told Jeff things weren't what they should be. He chose his words carefully. "That's polite of you, son. Just don't let your roommate ride roughshod over you. It's your room, too."

Alan glanced away for a second. "Yeah, I know. It's just--it's not someone I particularly get along with."

"I see." Jeff tried to keep his voice neutral. His instincts told him there was something more to it, but he wasn't sure if he should pursue it. Over the summer, he found that trying to probe too deeply made his youngest son put up stronger walls. _He'll tell me in his own good time,_ Jeff decided. He shifted his chair, absently rolling his shoulders, still a bit bruised from his adventure in the snow.

Alan caught the motion and frowned. "You okay, Dad?"

"Yes, son. I'm okay. Just took a little tumble the other night." Jeff waved a dismissive hand.

 _How could I have forgotten to ask?_ The teen lowered his voice. "At the rescue?"

"Yes, but I'm okay, really. I was pinned under a collapsed tent and a hell of a lot of snow. Scott pulled my butt out and I'm fine."

"How did things go overall?"

"Not as quickly as it should have. Thunderbird One nearly iced up in the weather. But we got the victims out to medical attention and that's what counts."

"Anybody else hurt?" The more they discussed the rescue, the more tense Alan became.

Jeff shook his head, smiling. "No, just a couple cases of frost nip for Gordon and me. We were all thawed out by the time we got home."

Alan let out an audible, "Whew!" His shoulders relaxed. "I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier, Dad."

"Hey! You've had a lot on your mind! New roommate, track tryouts, Fermat's arm, classes; I don't blame you for forgetting." He pointed to the screen, grinning. "Now that it's happened, I doubt it will happen again."

Alan chuckled for the first time during their conversation. "Yeah, I think you're right."

Suddenly, a loud klaxon went off in the office, making Alan grimace as the sound reached his ears. "Speaking of rescues..." Jeff pressed a button, and a tray slid out, a hand-shaped depression on its surface. He put his hand on it and the room began to change before Alan's eyes.

Virgil came pelting in, saw Alan's face on the vidphone screen, and waved. "Hey, Sprout!"

"Hey, Virge!" Alan waved back.

"Gotta go, son." Jeff said, regret in his voice.

"I understand, Dad." The youngest Tracy nodded decisively. "Be careful, huh?" He paused for a moment, moistening his lips. "One last thing, Dad."

"Yes, son?" The room was almost fully transformed from office to control center and Jeff was changing from father to commander along with it.

"I love you."

Jeff stopped what he was doing to look Alan full in the face. "I love you, too, Alan. Talk to you later."

"Later. Tag's on you."

"Right. I'll remember that. Goodbye, son."

"Bye, Dad. Bye, guys!" His other brothers had finally arrived, so he waved at them. They waved, calling hurried greetings back at him before he reluctantly ended the conversation.

He leaned back against the tree, gazing upward, unseeing. His mind was thousands of miles away. He closed his eyes as a longing for home snatched at his heart. He inhaled deeply as he thought of the pool pulling back and the sleek rocket plane shooting into the sky, white contrails following. A smile touched his lips as he imagined the cliff opening, disgorging the green workhorse. It trundled out, stopping at the end of the short runway. Massive clamps clanked into place, holding the giant still as it was tipped up forty-five degrees. The engines fired, red and hot, pushing the craft up and into the air, like some insect that wasn't truly meant to fly. He saw his brothers sitting in the cockpit of the red rocket. Above them, the silo roof opened. Sections of the library parted, making room to launch that powerful red spaceship into the atmosphere and beyond.

He allowed himself to savor the images a moment more. He sighed, opening his eyes. His vision was filled with the yellowing leaves again, so he removed his earpiece, putting both that and his phone in his jacket pocket. He levered himself to his feet and headed back to the Student Union. _Gotta go find Fermat._


	11. Uncomfortable Positions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alan goes searching for Fermat and meets someone new. A rescue in Ecuador heats up.

Alan stepped into the games room and scanned the crowd for his friend. The pinball games proved to be manned by people he either didn't know or had a "I was in his class once" acquaintance with. _Fermat must have gotten bored,_ he thought, _or maybe he's gone back to his room._

He was tempted to use the communicator on his wrist, but decided the risk was too great. _Emergencies only,_ he reminded himself, _I'd lose the privilege if I did._ Seeing someone from Ms. Gerrick's class last year, he stepped over to ask about Fermat's whereabouts.

"Hackenbacker?" the boy said. "Israni came and got him. They were talking about hitting the courts."

"Thanks." 

Fermat, though seemingly the stereotypical clumsy geek, had surprisingly advanced hand-eye coordination, which he kept sharp through typing and playing pinball. Once he was on a machine, he zoned out just about everything else, playing to the usual half-hour time limit. All of the school's machines had his initials atop of the high score list.

 _Courts, huh?_ Alan thought as he left the Student Union. _With Dev, that's got to be basketball._ Devdan played skillfully enough to make the school's team but found the challenge of his academic studies more important. During the weekends he could often be found playing a pick up game or two on the outside courts.

Alan walked briskly at first, and then broke into a trot. _It'll be a while before anything shows up on the televid. Maybe I can get in a few minutes playing until then._

Approaching the courts, he grinned to see Dev score for his side, leaping up and over his opponents to send the ball swishing through the hoop, catching nothing but net. The action shifted to the other end as the opposing side got control of the ball. Fermat sat on a bench nearby, watching, cheering on his friend, and talking to the dark-haired boy next to him. Alan came up behind him, and thrust his fist down over Fermat's shoulder, his thumb stuck between his fore and middle fingers. The gesture was the sign language letter "t" and was a signal between the two boys that meant the Thunderbirds were go. Fermat glanced at it before turning to look at his friend, an expression of delight on his face. He was itching to ask Alan for details, but knew he couldn't right then and there; it might compromise security.

Alan sat down next to the bench and asked, "So, who's winning?"

"The o-other guys," Fermat said, rolling his eyes. "Wish I w-were o-out there. But I c-can't, not with this a-a-a... cast. C-Couldn't play p-pinball very well, either." He turned to his neighbor. "D-Dom? D-Do you know m-my friend, A-Alan?"

Dom leaned over a bit to look at Alan. He shook his head. "I know about him, but we've never been introduced." He held out his hand. "Dom Bertoli."

Alan took the hand and shook it. "Alan Tracy. We've got a mutual friend in Kay Lewis."

"Yeah, he's on the yearbook staff," Dom said.

They were distracted by Dev making another basket. Alan put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth to whistle loudly while the other two cheered. The game went on, with the other team in possession of the ball, so Alan asked Dom, "You okay? I heard about that attack—"

"I'm okay." Dom nodded slightly. "They got the asthma under control at the hospital, then called my folks. But they're in Ft. Lauderdale and I'm here." He shrugged. "The hospital got permission to release me. I expect my parents up here sometime tomorrow." He turned to Fermat, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Wish I'd had this one along. Kay tells me he scared away the guys who went after him."

"Well," Fermat began, blushing. "I-It wasn't j-j-j... only me, y'know. A-Alan here b-brought backup."

"Cool! Glad to hear you had his back, Alan."

Someone from Dev's team scored again and, suddenly, the game ended. "Who won?" Alan asked.

"The o-other guys," Fermat repeated with a sigh. "46 to 32."

"Well, I'd better be going." Dom stood up, stretching. "Nice to meet you, Alan."

"You, too, Dom," Alan replied. He gave Dom a thoughtful look. "Hey, is your roommate Trey Mackenzie?"

Neither Alan nor Fermat could miss the grimace that passed over Dom's face. "Yeah, he is. What about it?"

"Well, I'd like to talk to you about an idea I just got concerning him. It might be good for both of us."

Dom shrugged. "Sure. Why not? We can talk now, if you don't mind walking back to the dorms together."

"Great!" Alan turned to Fermat. "Hey, I'll meet you in your room in a bit, okay?"

"S-Sure," Fermat replied, a puzzled look on his face. "I'll b-be there. G-Got homework to d-d-do."

"See you soon!" the older boy called as he walked off with Dom.

* * *

"Damn, it's hot!" Gordon groused. He was dressed in a fireproof suit, air tanks connected to his face plate, spraying dicetyline foam at the flames in the path of the Firefly.

"What did you expect, Gords?" Virgil asked from where he guided the machine along. "It's a forest fire." He used the bulldozer blade to push aside the charred trees blocking the bumpy, rut-filled, dirt road to the camp. "Thunderbird Five from Firefly. John, how much farther?"

"You've got another kilometer, Virge," John replied, using a series of IR surveillance satellites to bounce the image to his screens.

The camp was deep in the forests of Ecuador, in the Parque Nacional Yaguní, where a forest fire now raged. There were many small villages around the park and a few small camps within, of which this was one. The camp was in the path of the fire; it would soon be surrounded. The small villages were ill-equipped to do more than keep the fire from their own borders, so the sponsors of the camp, a missionary agency in Quito, had called upon International Rescue to pull the campers out.

It was quickly decided the easiest way to take the thirty or so teenagers and counselors out was to clear the access road. The fire had cut across the road at one point; many fallen trees, some still on fire, blocked the way. So Jeff unloaded the Firefly, with its load of dicetyline and two of his sons, at the camp. Three campers who needed medical attention were airlifted, along with an adult chaperone, to Puyo, the nearest town with the necessary facilities. Since no good spot existed nearby to set up a command post, Scott parked his Thunderbird on a larger access road and joined his father in Thunderbird Two for the airlift.

Gordon risked a glance back the way they'd come. Three ancient four-wheel drive trucks, each holding eight to ten people, bumped slowly along behind them. The air, thick with smoke and very hot, cut his visibility. He hoped that the air tank kits they handed out would be sufficient to see the campers and counselors through. Taking a deep breath himself, he turned back and continued to spray his surroundings with green foam.

"Thunderbird One to Firefly," Scott's voice came over the communications links in both Virgil's and Gordon's helmets. "I'm baaaack!"

"Decided to stop shirking, huh?" Gordon quipped, his voice sounding breathy inside his face mask. "How about coming down here and doing some real manly work? The kind that gets you hot and sweaty."

"I have different and more enjoyable ideas on how to get hot and sweaty, Gords."

"Oh?" Virgil chimed in. "What's her name?"

"Can the chatter boys," came Jeff's no-nonsense tone. "Focus on the job."

A chorus of "F-A-B" sounded from the Firefly and Thunderbird One, while a quiet chuckle could be heard from Thunderbird Two. Unexpectedly, John's voice, tight and tense cut in. "Firefly from Thunderbird Five. You've got trouble. The wind has shifted and picked up speed. The fire's now ahead of you on your left. I suggest you pick up some speed, too."

Next, they heard from Scott, who flew along the route over them, "Firefly from Thunderbird One. John's right. You have a bridge ahead. Wooden from the look of it, over a good-sized ravine. The fire is racing you there."

"You heard the man, Virgil," Jeff said. "John, talk to the drivers behind the Firefly and apprise them of the situation. See if they can pick up speed."

"F-A-B," John replied. He turned and pressed a button. He could handled this translation job himself; he was fluent in Spanish. He rapidly informed the lead truck of the approaching problem.

Virgil coaxed the Firefly to go faster, pressing the pedal down slowly. The increase in speed meant the machine hit bumps with greater force, which had a decided effect on Gordon's perch.

"Hey!" he called out indignantly, holding tightly as the dicetyline platform swung back and forth sharply. "Don't forget I'm up here!"

"I won't," Virgil answered through gritted teeth. "Just keep putting out that fire!"

They entered an area where the fire hadn't been burning long; no fallen trees needed their attention – yet. The fire here was younger, hotter, burning up the tinder of bushes and ground cover quickly. It moved fast as the winds fanned it, sending sparks to ignite more of the dry foliage. Gordon grimly held on, spraying green foam along each side, sweeping back to preserve their remaining dicetyline by avoiding the actual road.

Finally, they saw the bridge. Beyond it, the forest was untouched by flame and beckoned like a cool oasis. Virgil took one good look at the span and groaned. "Firefly to Thunderbirds One, Two and Five. We have reached the bridge, but we've got a little problem here."

"Go ahead, Firefly," Jeff said. "What's the trouble? Is the bridge on fire?"

"Negative. The bridge is fine, but – it's too small for the Firefly."


	12. Unbearable Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue winds up... or down, and our schoolboys get into a little mischief.

"So, any ideas?" Virgil asked of his father and brothers.

"I have one," Jeff replied. "But first, pull out of the way so those trucks can get across."

"F-A-B."

Within minutes, Virgil had cleared space enough for the Firefly to pull off the road. John contacted the lead truck driver and told him to drive over the bridge to safety. As each truck eased across the wooden span, the passengers rolled down windows and waved madly at the Firefly's occupants. Behind his air mask, Gordon grinned and waved back. His eyes followed the vehicles as they rumbled into the fire-free forest across the ravine and out of sight.

"Okay, Dad," Virgil said as the last truck drove off the bridge. "What's the plan?"

"How wide do you think this ravine is right here?" Jeff asked.

"I have no idea. Why?"

"We need to find a spot where the ravine narrows to less than the length of the pod," his father explained. "If we can find such a spot, we can just put the pod across and you can drive right on inside."

"Cool idea, Dad," Scott said from his perch overhead in Thunderbird One. "There's a laser measure in One's toolbox, but I have a feeling the bridge is here because this _is_ the most narrow spot."

Gordon looked across the landscape, seared and still burning. "Well, get to it, man. The dicetyline supplies are running out."

"You just keep the fire away from the Firefly while Scott measures the ravine," Jeff said.

"F-A-B," Gordon replied, his voice weary. He took a deep breath and continued his fight against the onrushing flames.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. What's the hold up?"

"One here. Trying to figure out just where to land. There doesn't seem to be anyplace close to the bridge."

"Firefly from Thunderbird Five," John's voice had an urgent tone to it.

"Go ahead, John," Virgil answered.

"The wind has shifted again, and it's coming from the west, which will bring more flames toward your position."

"F-A-B," Virgil replied. "Thunderbirds One and Two from Firefly. John says the wind has shifted. I'm going to move back to the roadway and wait there. No sense getting caught in this brush."

"F-A-B, Firefly," Jeff answered.

"F-A-B, Dad." Virgil put the Firefly in reverse and prepared to move it. "Virgil to Gordon. I'm pulling out and onto the road again. Hold on tight." He paused for a moment, waiting for an answer. "Gordon? Are you all right?" Another silent moment, then he called louder, "Virgil to Gordon! Acknowledge!"

"Firefly from Thunderbird Five. What's wrong?" John called.

"I don't know!" Virgil cried. "Gordon's not responding!"

* * *

"C-Come in," Fermat called when he heard the knock. The door slid open and Alan walked in, math book under his arm.

Fermat swiveled his chair around toward his friend. "S-So, did things g-g-g... how d-did things go with D-Dom?"

"Pretty good." Alan dropped the book to the floor and sat down next to it. "Looks like we might be able to help each other out." He glanced around the room. "Where's A.J.?"

"Th-The library. He left a n-n-note."

"Ah, too bad. Wanted to ask him how his call to his dad went." He shrugged, opening the textbook. Pausing as a thought struck him, he raised an eyebrow, a calculating look in his eyes. "Hey, I've got an idea. Since he's not here, let's give your dad a call and find out what's going on with the rescue."

"I d-don't know." Fermat frowned, shaking his head. "I d-don't think that's such a g-g-good idea. D-Dad would be at the c-c-c... at your father's d-desk. He w-wouldn't appreciate being d-distracted."

"Well then," Alan said as he got up quickly from the floor. "How about the tertiary drive? Open it in a separate window that we can collapse easily ... we can lock the door ..."

Fermat was silent for a moment, powerfully tempted by his suggestion. With a nod, he looked up into the older boy's eyes and said, "Lock the d-door."

Alan grinned and did as his friend requested. When he came back to look over Fermat's shoulder, the younger boy was entering a password to access the hidden third drive which was keyed to a server at the command center. "Th-This should give us a p-p-p... an account of wh-what's happening, with c-communications and e-everything."

"Looks like we have some catching up to do," Alan commented as the window opened listing the back-and-forth communications as if they were an IM conversation. Those at the Danger Zone were listed with either their name or the craft/vehicle they were using. "Look, Dad's piloting Two, Scott's in One, and Gords and Virge are in the Firefly." He frowned. "I wonder where the hell they are?"

Fermat clicked on a link that brought up a map of the world, with a blinking light showing the current position of the Thunderbird craft. He clicked on the light, and the map "zoomed in", showing the forest and which craft was where. "Th-There. They're in E-Ecuador. One is the b-b-blue dot, Two is g-green and the F-Firefly has two Fs on it." He turned his attention back to the communications log. "They're b-battling a f-f-forest f-fire."

Alan prompted his friend to put up a second window of the dialogue. The younger boy could read much faster than the Tracy son, and Alan didn't want to hold Fermat up as they scrolled down.

Finally, they caught up to the end of the dialogue, and Alan's face creased in deep concern. "Gordon? What's wrong with Gords?"

Just then there was a noise at the door. "It's A-A. J.!" Fermat hissed as he quickly shut down the drive, clicking down the windows and map with the speedy application of his mouse.

Alan looked at him in disbelief. "Wait! I have to know—!"

A.J. walked in and both boys looked over at him. He took in their startled expressions and frowned a bit. "Hello, Fermat, Alan. What's going on?"

* * *

"Damn!" Scott said as he hovered over the Firefly. "He's slumped over the dicetyline cannon!"

"Then we have no time to put down the pod," Jeff said curtly. "Scott, you land. Virgil, see to your brother. I'll prepare the mega grabs."

Virgil slid his face mask on as he popped the canopy of the Firefly's driver compartment. The heat of the fire, so close to where they were stopped, made him take in a deep breath. He scrambled up and over to the cannon's platform, where Gordon's limp form made a gasp catch in his throat. Beyond the end of the Firefly, Thunderbird One made a quick landing, obscured in a billowing cloud of blowing ash and sand. The pilot's cockpit dropped open and Scott slid out, wearing a face mask and air tank but no heat suit. He ran to join Virgil at Gordon's side.

"What's wrong with him?" Scott asked loudly.

"Heat exhaustion, maybe," Virgil replied, his face furrowed with worry as he examined Gordon. "And he's low on air." He turned to Scott and in a voice tight with fear, ordered, "Let's just get him into One and out of here!"

"Okay, Virgil. Calm down; I'll take him. But Dad will need you down here." Scott bent down and lifted Gordon into a fireman's carry. He grabbed at Virgil's arm briefly, giving him a sharp, serious look. "Will you be okay?"

Virgil nodded briefly. "Yeah. Just get Gords to safety!"

"F-A-B." Scott withdrew his hand, readjusted Gordon's weight, and hurried off to his 'Bird.

Virgil watched them go for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the fire. "Damn! The dicetyline supply is below five percent!"

"Just keep the fire at bay." Jeff's no-nonsense voice cut in. "I'll be over your position in a few seconds. Then I'll lower the mega-grabs. You'll need to attach the grabs for me."

"F-A-B," Virgil replied. His father's commanding tone was exactly what he needed to stay focused on the job at hand. He pressed the trigger on the dicetyline cannon and watched as the green foam shoot out under high pressure, extinguishing the flames that crawled so close to him.

Thunderbird One took off with a roar and another scattering of sand and soot. It flew off over the ravine, toward the cool forest, passing above Thunderbird Two's bulk as it moved slowly towards Virgil and the stranded Firefly. The winds kicked up by Thunderbird Two's hoverjets pushed some of the fire away from the pod vehicle, and the cargo craft covered the smoke wreathed disk of the sun, making it easier for Virgil to look up. A door in the pod's base slid open, letting the bright yellow magnetic mega-grabs to come snaking down towards him. He allowed himself a small, grim smile behind his face mask; his father's aim was as good as his own.

"I've got the grabs! Let out another three meters of cable!" he directed.

"F-A-B," came Jeff's voice, audible only because it was directly fed to Virgil's ear. The grabs moved down a bit more; Virgil pushed them open enough to connect them to the special pads built into each pod vehicle for just such an emergency.

"Okay! They're in position!"

"F-A-B!" said Jeff. A humming noise sounded as the electromagnets came to life. Virgil listened carefully for the tell-tale clanks that meant the vehicle was secure.

"Virgil, I have a red light on pad one. Is it in position down there?"

"Negative, Dad. Release the clamp so I can reposition it." Virgil jumped down from the cannon platform as the humming noise stopped. He checked out the magnetic foot that was designated as pad one. It wasn't quite in place, so he moved it slightly forward. He checked the other feet, feeling the fire's heat increase as it again neared his position. A tree fell across the road with a large crash, missing the Firefly by mere inches. He jumped at the sound. Climbing back onto the platform, he called, "Try it now!"

The magnets hummed into life again and this time Virgil heard four solid clanks.

"That did it, Virgil. All lights green across the board. Better strap back in for the ride."

Virgil sighed, letting his shoulders relax a bit, then climbed back into the driver's cab. Sealing it up again, he called into his face mask's communicator, "I'm good to go, Thunderbird Two. All strapped in and ready to blow this Popsicle stand!"

"F-A-B!" Jeff's voice filtered down, sounding relieved. "Upsy-daisy!"

The big winch took up the slack on the cable, gradually raising the Firefly into the air, When three meters of space existed between the bottom of the pod and the top of the Firefly, Thunderbird Two moved out slowly to avoid creating too much swing.

Virgil took off his face mask and hood. He ran his hand through his short, sweaty hair. Shaking his head sharply, he let sweat drops fly before running a hand through his locks again. "Firefly to Two, how's Gordon?"

"Don't know yet, Virgil." Jeff's voice sounded weary. "Scott took him straight to the nearest hospital. Said he couldn't wait for Two's sickbay."

"The hospital at Peyo reports that Thunderbird One is on approach to their helijet pad," a third voice broke in.

"Hey, John," Jeff said with a touch of humor. "Almost forgot you were there."

"Yeah, right, Dad," John replied. "Not when I was reporting every little shift in wind direction so you knew what was going on at the Danger Zone during the airlift to and from Peyo." Virgil heard his brother blow out a long breath of air. "That was too damned close, Virge. You guys are going to give me premature gray hairs."

"Then your hair won't _need_ peroxide," Virgil quipped.

"Ha, ha, very funny."

"Virgil, we've got a sizable clearing coming up. I'm going to let you down and open up the pod so you can put the Firefly to bed. It's not safe to carry you like this much further."

"F-A-B, Dad," Virgil replied. "Let's do it." He paused before addressing John again. "Just be glad you're up in Five where it's air conditioned. It was hot as hell down here today."

"I'd much rather have been helping you out down there than staying up here listening and not able to do a damned thing," John's tone was sharp, unintentionally so. He sighed and moderated it. "I'm sorry, Virge. I'm just worried about Gordon."

Jeff cut in. "We all are. Good thing Alan has no idea what's going on out here. I'm sure he'll hear about it though. I think I saw Lisa Lowe's crew setting up at the hospital in Peyo."

Virgil groaned. "How the hell does she get around so fast? Teleporter?"

"If that's her secret, I want it!" John snorted. "It'd make the trip home a hell of a lot faster!"

Virgil chuckled. He peered out Firefly's cab, watching the ground slowly coming toward him as his father lowered Firefly to the dry, grassy ground.

* * *

"Uh, ah, just checking the scores," Alan prevaricated. He picked up his math book and gave A.J. a weak grin. "Got to get going on the homework."

"Scores. What scores?" the younger boy asked.

"Football!" Alan said at the same time Fermat blurted out, "B-Baseball!" They exchanged glances as A.J.'s frown grew deeper. Fermat indicated Alan with his head. "F-Football."

"Oh, okay. Are either of you going to dinner?" A.J. asked as he put his things away.

"Uh, no. We usually we just hang out and snack," Alan explained. "Same thing on Sunday nights."

"Uh, I've g-got to go t-to the infirmary," Fermat said with a small groan. "M-Medication." He sighed. "I might as well g-go to the d-dining hall while I'm th-there."

This stopped Alan cold for a moment. "Ah, right," he finally said. "Okay. Well, I guess if you're going to supper, I'll go too."

A.J. smiled. "Great! You can tell me all about the football scores. I've never been interested in the game before. Maybe it's time I started."

"Uh, sure!" Alan replied. He left his textbook on Fermat's desk as his friend shut down the computer. "We can tell you all about the game, can't we, Brain?"

"Y-Yeah, P-Pinky," Fermat hesitatingly agreed.

The three walked out,  A.J. locking the door behind them. Alan strained to hear the broadcast from the common room's television. He huffed a relieved breath; whatever the other boys were listening to had nothing to do with his family. But just after he passed out of earshot, Lisa Lowe's blandly pretty face appeared.

"I'm here at the main hospital in Peyo, Ecuador—"


	13. Unavoidable Deception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gordon's in the hospital and Alan and Fermat get some news... but not the way they want. Thanks to Hobbeth for betareading. Information on heat stroke and heat exhaustion comes from http://www.umm.edu/altmed/ConsConditions/HeatExhaustioncc.html and www.drreddy.com/heat.html.

"Earth to Pinky, Earth to Pinky." Qaeshon waved a dark hand in front of Alan's face.

Alan startled from his reverie. "Wha...? Oh! Hey, Kay."

"Where were you?" his friend asked. "You looked like you were in outer space somewhere."

The blond shook his head to clear it before giving his gathered crew a half-hearted grin. "Yeah, I guess maybe I was."

The news of pizza delivered from a local pizzaria prompted many students who would normally skip Saturday night dinner to attend. They filled the dining hall, scarfing down pizza and generally enjoying themselves. Alan and Fermat's little group, minus Ralph, were all present. Alan tried to explain some of the intricacies of football to A.J. on their way to the infirmary, but after obtaining Fermat's medicine, he became quiet. Silently fretting over Gordon's condition, he felt as if the world's troubles lay on his shoulders. It did not go unnoticed.

"Hey, Pinky, what's up?" Jason asked. "You've been awfully quiet."

"Yeah, I know." Alan sighed. He couldn't explain his worries; Fermat watched him like a hawk all the way from the dorm- _A hawk with glasses. Now there's a weird image -_ to see that he didn't. _I can't tell them about Gordon, but maybe I can spike Sugi's guns a little._

"Hey, guys?" he asked, his serious tone garnering the attention of his friends. He paused, making sure all eyes were turned his way before asking, "If someone started a ... a nasty rumor about me, would you believe it?"

The boys all exchanged glances, each of them making eye contact with Fermat. Not knowing what Alan was driving at, Fermat shrugged, shaking his head a little in answer.

At last, Qaeshon broke the silence. "What kind of fool question is that, Pinky? Of course we wouldn't. You're _our_ Pinky and we _know_ you. We know the kind of stuff you're made of."

"Yeah, Pinky," Jason piped up. "We wouldn't even listen." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Well, if it involved some pretty girl, I might ask for a phone number."

The boys chuckled and even Alan joined in.

"I think," A.J. ventured. The other boys stopped their chatter to listen. He was still new to the group, but as he didn't talk very much, when he did have something to say the others listened carefully. "I think," he repeated, "that if I heard a nasty rumor about you – about any of you – I'd ask you about it." He paused for thought. "I'd also try to track down where the rumor came from."

"Yeah, that's what I'd do, too," Qaeshon agreed.

Alan nodded, his brows furrowed with uncertainty. "Okay. Well, um, what if it came from a ... a popular source. Someone who people respect."

"I-If you t-told me it was a l-l-l ... it wasn't t-true, it wouldn't m- matter _who_ the s-s-source was," Fermat said firmly. "I'd b-believe _you_." He stared at his old roommate, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "Wh-What's going on, A-Alan?"

"Nothing," Alan lied, shrugging. "I was just wondering."

Jason raised one ginger eyebrow. He poked a long index finger in Alan's direction. "Hey, don't think you can fool us, Pinky. We know something's up. Come on now, spill it!"

Alan let out a long breath. His shoulders slumped. "I can't, Jase, not yet anyway. But when I can, I promise I will."

There was a moment of silence before Qaeshon put a hand on Alan's shoulder. "Whatever it is, we're here for you, man. Remember that."

Alan smiled a little. "I will. Thanks, guys."

Their conversation was slow to resume. "Hey, A.J.," Alan asked. "How'd your call to your father go?"

"It was okay," A.J. replied. "I think he was surprised that I called just to talk." He snorted, a self-deprecating laugh. "I usually call to ask for more money – or to complain." Looking at Fermat, he said, "I never really thought before about what I was doing when I called. I guess hearing you talk to your dad kinda ... well, it showed me a couple of things."

Before Fermat could comment, Alan jumped in. "I know what you mean. That was me last year. I hated the idea of being here, so far from my family. But this year's different. I'm having fun." He rolled his eyes. "Well, as much fun as you can have at school."

"You c-can have lots of fun," Fermat said firmly. "I d-do."

"Yeah, but you're the _Brain_ ," Qaeshon cut in, grinning. "For you, school is like summer camp ... that lasts for nine months."

The resulting chuckles broke the ice again and the talk turned to less serious topics. Finally, their appetites sated, the little group split up. Alan walked close to Fermat as he disposed of their trays. "We _have_ to call your dad! I need to know about Gords!" he whispered.

"I-I d-don't see how!" Fermat hissed back. "Not w-with A.J. in the r-room!"

"Hmm." Alan tried to think of a solution to their current dilemma. He didn't want to bring Fermat back to his room in case it still smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Finally, he got an idea. "Wait for me at the games room. I'll go get my phone."

"Why can't w-we go to y-your room?"

"We can't."

"Why not?"

"We just can't. Trust me on this."

O-Okay." Just then A.J. caught up with them. "A.J-J. I'm going to the g-games room for a b-bit."

"Do you mind if I come with you?" A.J. asked.

"Uh, well," Alan hemmed. "I, uh," His words rushed out as he changed his plan. "I just remembered! I left my math book in your room. I'd better go get it so we can study together."

Fermat rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly at the sudden change of plans. "Y-You're right. We'd b-better get the h-homework done f-first. Sorry, A.J."

"Oh, that's all right. Maybe we can go some other time," A.J. commented amiably. "I think I'd better get my own homework done, too. I'll walk back to the dorm with you."

The two best friends glanced at each other and sighed.

* * *

Thunderbird Two landed smoothly on a cleared lot next to the Peyo's main hospital. A sign indicated in Spanish that a new wing would soon be built there and Jeff absently made a mental note to look into it for a possible financial donation. He groaned when he saw Lisa Lowe. She tried to hurry over but was blocked. Jeff's first visit to Peyo allowed him to touch base with their Ecuadorian agent, who set up security around the hospital. The militia now surrounded the building, screening people who really were sick or injured while providing a buffer between the eager populace  and the Thunderbird craft. Jeff turned on the camera fogger and hurried to join Virgil, carrying his helmet under one arm.

"Do we have to wear these?" Virgil indicated his helmet as he strapped himself into the three-seater lift. "It's pretty hot out there."

"Afraid so, Virgil. The camera fogger has only so wide a range." He snorted. "I have no desire to see my picture – or yours – in uniform, plastered all over the press." He put his helmet on. "We can take them off once in private."

The lift's arm extended from the belly of Thunderbird Two's main chassis, lowering them gently to the ground. Virgil used a control pad on his wrist to activate the recall function and the arm rose again. They were beta testing the wrist controller, too. Its software would not be integrated with the wristwatch communicators, which were meant for casual use both on and away from base. Jeff didn't want some stray pickpocket or mugger ending up with the controls to a Thunderbird, even for a second.

The crowd shouted, waving at them, The two men gave a wave of acknowledgment before hurrying towards the hospital. On the way, they passed Thunderbird One, safely buttoned up, sitting on the helijet pad. Jeff nudged Virgil and they picked up their pace.

The militia guarding the hospital let them through without trouble. Their Ecuadorian agent, Augustin Enrico Diaz, met them at the entrance to the emergency treatment area. "This way," he said in fluent, if accented, English.

They ducked behind a curtain and Jeff finally felt secure enough to remove his helmet. Scott was standing out of the way, holding onto his own helmet. Jeff handed his off to Virgil, stepping close to where doctors were treating an ashen-faced Gordon. "Hey, Gordon."

Gordon peered up at his father and managed a small smile. "Hey, Commander." He waved a listless hand, the one without the I.V. line in it. "C'n ya tell these guys I want outta here?"

Jeff smiled. "Let's just find out what the doctor has to say, first." He glanced across the bed. "Doctor? How is he?"

Diaz stood at Jeff's right elbow, asking Jeff's question in rapid Spanish. The doctor met the IR commander's eyes as he spoke and Diaz translated. "He is suffering from heat exhaustion. His temperature on arrival was over thirty-eight degrees centigrade, which is normal for this condition. We are trying to bring his temperature down with cold packs. The intravenous line is there because there is indication of dehydration."

Jeff nodded. Gordon's heat suit had been cut away, as had the protective inner layer designed to wick away perspiration. His skin was pale and clammy. He lay still, a very unusual condition  for this son. But his breathing sounded normal and the monitors he was hooked up to declared that his heart beat in a regular rhythm, though Jeff thought it sounded a little fast to his experienced ear. He glanced over at the doctor again, addressing him personally. Diaz translated, "How long will he need to be here?"

The doctor's reply was short and to the point. "As long as it takes for his temperature to go down to normal."

Jeff reached out to run a hand through Gordon's short, dark hair before turning to Scott. "See what you can get to eat and drink then contact Five and Base. We may be here a while."

* * *

The three boys returned to Maplewood, Alan trying hard to figure out a way he and Fermat could get the privacy they needed to call Brains. Once they got to the third floor, however, he suddenly stopped, his attention diverted by the news playing on the common room's wide screen televid.

"Lisa Lowe here in Peyo, Ecuador, with an update on the injured International Rescue operative. The hospital has confirmed one of the pilots has been admitted to the emergency room for treatment, but is not giving any details on his or her condition. Thunderbirds One and Two are on the ground here, and three other operatives have entered the hospital. None of them seemed to be injured. Reports from the Parque Nacional Yaguní indicate that they were fighting a forest fire and rescuing people stranded at a small missionary camp within the park. There has been no... wait..."

Lisa put a hand up to her earphone. "I have just received official confirmation of the venue and nature of the Thunderbirds' latest rescue. Yes, a missionary group in Quito has issued a statement thanking International Rescue and praising them for their work in reaching and removing over thirty campers and counselors from the midst of a raging forest fire."

The scene switched back to the newsroom, where anchorman Ned Cook asked, "Lisa, with this news from Quito, is there any speculation on what injuries the Thunderbird operative may have sustained?"

"None, Ned. I will keep you updated on the situation."

"Thank you, Lisa. That was Lisa Lowe, reporting from Peyo, Ecuador with the latest on the injured Thunderbirds operative."

Fermat looked up at pale Alan, who stared at the screen. He touched his friend's shoulder briefly. "A-Alan?" he called softly. "We h-have homework t-to do."

Alan whirled, an angry retort on his lips. As he did, he noticed A.J. gazing at him with an expression of puzzlement and curiosity. He clenched a fist, took a deep breath, and replied, "Yeah, Fermat. Let's ... let's get to it."


	14. Unknown Quantities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alan finally hears from his family. A.J. asks a question, and Alan reveals his plans to Sugi. Thanks to Hobbeth for betareading.

Jeff touched Scott's shoulder. "Give John a call," he murmured. "Have him phone Alan using the holographic background. I'm sure Alan's heard what's happened and is worried."

Scott nodded. "F-A-B." He moved away to make his call, confident their communications equipment wouldn't disrupt the hospital's medical devices.

Jeff returned to Gordon, who still lay quietly against the raised mattress, his eyes closed. The EKG showed Gordon's pulse rate slowing back to a more normal range. The doctor came in, checked the equipment readings and his tablet before speaking to Gordon. Diaz translated.

"I'm still feeling pretty wrung out," Gordon replied, his voice was rough. A nurse who stood by gave him a smile and offered him a drink of water as Diaz translated his comment to the doctor.

The physician nodded and smiled, patting the young man on the shoulder. He called to Jeff, "Señor?"

"Yes?" Jeff replied, glancing up.

The doctor began speaking in rapid Spanish. Diaz listened, asked a quick question, and then faced Jeff. "The doctor says that Gordon's temperature has dropped to a level where transport to your medical facilities would be advisable. He hopes that your physicians will continue to monitor the situation. He orders Gordon to rest and be kept off duty for..." Diaz exchanged another few words with the medico before continuing, "... for at least three days, then on light duty for another week."

Jeff smiled and nodded. "I understand. If you could prepare Gordon for discharge, I would be grateful."

Diaz passed the message along, and the doctor nodded, consulting his tablet to begin the discharge procedures. Jeff turned to find both Scott and Virgil at his side, questioning looks on their faces.

"Virgil, go power up Two and prepare her for departure."

"F-A-B," Virgil said with a sharp, eager nod. He gave Gordon a light, playful punch to the shoulder, grinning as he fastened his helmet and left .

"Scott? Status report." Jeff glanced over at his eldest son.

"John received your instructions and will carry them out momentarily," Scott said.

"F-A-B," Jeff replied. "Get One airborne so the helijet pad will be clear for Two's rescue basket. The closer Two gets to the hospital, the better."

"F-A-B." Scott turned to his younger brother. "See you back at base, Gords."

"See you," Gordon murmured as Scott gave him a small salute, picked up his helmet, and left.

Jeff smiled as he watched his sons go off to carry out his orders. He spared a moment to think of his second eldest and youngest sons, who would both need an update before the rescue crew headed home. He moved away from the bed to bring John and, through him, Alan, up to speed.

* * *

The tune "Dangerous Game" sounded in Fermat's room, muffled by the pocket of Alan's jacket. The teen started and jumped, showing how jittery he still felt just as the two younger boys thought he might have calmed down. Alan fumbled for the phone, dropping his earpiece on the floor as he pulled it free. Scooping the device up, he slipped the business end into his ear before answering the call.

John's handsome face filled the screen and Alan blinked. His brother was wearing a gray polo shirt, the Tracy Industries logo discreetly embroidered just below the left shoulder. He looked as if he were in an office somewhere, with a wall behind him, painted off-white, and a dark, wooden door frame set into the wall to the right of the screen. There was no sign that John was in a space station orbiting the Earth, and it took Alan a moment to realize just what he was seeing. _Is that the hologram?_

"Hey, John," Alan said, nervously running the tip of his tongue over his lips to moisten them. "What's up?"

John grinned. "The sky, the stars, Dad's blood pressure..."

Alan groaned, then rolled his eyes, and suddenly, he wasn't quite so tense. "I like your new digs," he quipped back. "Very official looking."

"Thanks, Sprout," John replied, a slight wry twist to his lips. "They are _very_ temporary." He paused to see Alan's reaction. When there was none, he continued. "Dad wanted me to call you and see how you were."

"Fine. I'm fine," Alan said, nodding. He tried to come up with a way to ask his vital question that wouldn't sound too suspicious. He finally asked, "How are you? How is everyone at home?"

"Doing good," John replied with a smile. "Dad wanted you to know that Gordon got a little overheated. He's been seen by a doctor, is doing better, and is on his way home now."

Alan's shoulders relaxed and he stifled a relieved sigh. "Good to hear."

"That's what I said." John smiled again when he saw Fermat's head peeking over Alan's shoulder. He waved a bit. "Hey, Fermat!"

"Oh, hey! Let me set up the speaker. Then you can talk to all of us." Alan quickly turned off the earpiece, propping the phone on the desk. Fermat crowded in to speak with John.

"H-Hey, John," he said, peering at the screen carefully. "I like the n-new r-room."

"So do I. Wish I could stay here longer. It's a nice change from my usual office," John replied with a chuckle and a wink. "So, what have you been doing?"

"M-Math homework. Alan and I st-still try to w-work on it t-t-together." Fermat glanced over at A.J., who was reading, or at least pretending to. "We saw that the Th-Thunderbirds were ou-out and about t-today."

"Really?" John asked, sounding as if he were weary of the subject, the bland and barely interested look on his face perfection itself. "Where were they _this_ time?"

"Ecuador," Alan chimed in. "Fighting a forest fire or something."

"One of th-them got hurt," Fermat added.

"Oh. Well, I hope that he or she is okay, whoever they are." John sighed, making it sound as if he were as bored as possible. "Is school going well?"

"Yeah," Fermat said. "Even d-despite this." He held up his arm, showing John his cast. He gave his roommate another glance. His eyes widened as a thought struck him. "H-Hey, John! My r-roommate is a b-b-b... huge fan of y-yours!"

"That's right!" Alan said, a grin spreading over his face. "Hey, A.J.! C'mon over here and meet my brother, John!"

A.J. glanced over at Alan, startled by the invitation. John frowned a little bit at being put on the spot, but as Fermat urged his roommate to join them, he sat up straighter and schooled his face to a pleasant expression.

"Hello, Mr. Tracy," A.J. stammered, coming up to stand at Fermat's left. "I'm, uh, Andrew John Trumbull." He glanced over a shoulder first at Alan, and then at Fermat, nodding toward the latter. "They call me A.J." He smiled shyly. "I really am a big fan of yours. I've read all of your books, and, well, it's really great to meet you."

John beamed. "Nice to meet you, too, Andrew. And please, call me John. I always think it's fun to run across someone who's as interested in astronomy as I am. Tell me, what are your favorite constellations?"

"I like Orion and Sirius. The story behind them is pretty fascinating and they're easy to spot. I wish I could have brought my telescope when I came to school. The sky's been really clear lately," A.J. said, his shyness forgotten as he warmed to the topic. "I would have joined the astronomy club, but my father said I had to limit myself to one extra-curricular activity and I chose chorale." He shrugged his shoulders a little. "Want to make the most of my counter-tenor while I still have it, I guess."

His idol chuckled. "The stars will always be there, A.J., but your voice? Yeah, that's gonna change." He sighed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this short. Work to do, y'know. Alan? Fermat? You two take care and I'll be in touch soon. Again, Andrew, nice to make your acquaintance. Have a good night, guys."

"G-Good night, John," Fermat said.

"Goodbye, John. It was nice to talk to you," A.J. added.

Alan picked up the phone and activated his earphone again. "Hey, bro? Ask Dad to call me in the morning? And say 'hi' to everyone for me, please? Especially Gords."

"Sure, Sprout."

"Don't call me 'Sprout'!" Alan groused.

John laughed. "Now I _know_ you're okay! I was worried when you didn't growl at me before."

"Yeah, well..." Alan hemmed, shrugging. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His voice changed, becoming a bit softer and a little bit wistful. "Hey, take care, John. Talk to you later."

"I miss you, too, kid," John replied, reading between the lines of his brother's words and tone. "Later, Al. Bye."

"Bye." Alan paused for a moment, then deactivated the phone. He pulled out his earpiece and stuck both back into his jacket pocket.

John cut off communications, tapping the keys to shut down the integrated holographic background that merged his picture in the signal to Alan's phone. He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. His silvery uniform was bunched up around his waist and the gray polo shirt rode up just a bit as he lifted his arms. He sighed, rocked back in his chair for a moment, before leaning forward to open communication with the island.

"Base from Thunderbird Five."

Brains's face came into view, wearing an apprehensive expression. "B-Base here, F-Five. What's the m-m-m... what's up, J-John?"

John looked and sounded cheerful, a _façade_ hiding the twinge of homesickness he was feeling right then. "Just wanted to let you know that I talked to the boys. Fermat's in good spirits and helping Alan with his math."

Brains looked surprised for a moment, and then smiled softly. "Th-Thanks, John. I'll c-call him l-l-later."

"You're welcome." John gnawed on his thumbnail for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hey, Brains? Do you know where I stashed some of the author's copies of my books?"

"Yeah, I th-think so." Brains frowned, puzzled.

"Can you pull out a volume of each for me? I'll be coming home in a few days and I want to send some autographed copies to Fermat's roommate." He chuckled wryly. "Seems I have at least _one_ fan. Two, if I count Dad."

"S-Sure, John. No p-p-p... I'll do it."

"Thanks, Brains. And please tell my dad I'm waiting to hear the latest when he arrives."

"I w-will, J-John."

"Okay then." John leaned forward again. "Thunderbird Five out."

He paused for a moment, then got up and stretched. "Time to get something to eat," he muttered as he headed for the tiny galley.

Back in the dorm, A.J. had settled back down at his desk, looking pleased. Fermat gazed up at Alan, who was putting on his jacket.

"Is e-everything all r-right at home?"

Alan frowned a bit at Fermat's question; suddenly, his face cleared. He huffed out a laugh, a sheepish expression formed as he realized he hadn't told Fermat about Gordon.

"Uh, yeah. Everything's okay. John said that Gordon got a little overheated. Dad took him to a doctor, and they're on their way home. He's gonna be okay, according to John."

"G-Good," Fermat said, relaxing a little. "You h-heading out?"

Alan nodded. "Yeah. Want to have some time to relax before light's out."

"I'll w-walk you downstairs."

"Okay. See you later, A.J.," Alan said, giving him a wave. The door to the room slid open and Fermat stepped through, turning to wait for his friend.

"Yeah, Alan. Later," A.J. replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, and thanks for introducing me to your brother! That was really great!"

"Hey, you're welcome! Hopefully, he'll get out here sometime this fall and you can meet him in person."

A.J. looked excited at the prospect. "Oh, boy! Maybe I can get him to autograph my copies of his books for me!"

Alan shook his head as he chuckled. "You never know." He stepped into the hall and the door closed behind him.

"Thanks, Fermat, for helping me keep my head on straight earlier." Alan propped himself up against the elevator wall, tilting his head back. "I could have blown everything sky-high today if you weren't watching out for me."

"You're w-welcome," the younger boy replied, leaning next to his taller friend. "If it helps any, I w-was c-concerned for G-Gordon, too."

"I know. But you thought about the big picture while I was just thinking about my brother."

"Hey, that's wh-what friends are f-for," Fermat said, twisting his head to look up at Alan, squinting through his thick glasses.

"Yeah. It is."

There was silence between them as the elevator arrived on the main floor. Alan got out and turned to have a few last words with his friend. "You going to breakfast?"

Fermat nodded. "Have to. M-Medication."

"Right. I think I'll be sleeping in. See you at lunch, then." Alan waved. He stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, pressed his math book against his side with an elbow, and sauntered off.

Fermat sighed and pressed the button for the third floor. He rolled his head around, trying to get the kinks out of his neck, while he adjusted the strap on his sling where it chafed. Once out of the elevator, he stretched his good arm up and yawned. Opening the door, he greeted his roommate with a quiet, "Hey."

A.J. watched Fermat without being obtrusive, a thoughtful frown on his pale face. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, "Fermat?"

The older boy turned to him, his eyes bleary. "Y-Yeah, A.J.?"

A.J. was quiet for a moment, studying Fermat, biting his lower lip as if making up his mind about something. Fermat shrugged a little and had just turned back to his desk when A.J. blurted out, "Why did you and Alan lie to me?"

* * *

The night was chilly. A slight breeze stirred the leaves, sending them rustling along the grassy quadrangle and skittering along the walkways and road. Alan breathed deeply, enjoying the crisp air. It felt clean, like the air on the island after a thunderstorm cleared out most of the humidity, leaving a wet, sea-scented freshness behind. He thought of how his room had smelled that afternoon and wrinkled his nose. _Sugi had better have dealt with that problem,_ he thought, frowning. _If not, I'll see if I can sleep with Kay or Jason. The floor in their rooms would be better than my bed if it smells like a cigarette butt._

He entered the dorm and made his way over to his door, knocking as he had agreed to. He unlocked the door when he heard a muffled, "Come in."

Lee lay on his bed, earphones in, a sports magazine in hand. The window stood open just a crack; Alan had to admit the air did feel fresher. He dumped his math book on his desk and hung up his jacket, retrieving his phone and tucking it into his wardrobe. While in the closet, he pulled on the sleeve of a uniform shirt and sniffed. He wasn't sure if he really smelled smoke or not; he knew his imagination could be made his sense of smell play tricks on him.

"The doors were closed," came a snide voice behind him. "Your clothes should be fine."

"Excuse me for not believing you," Alan answered back without turning, giving tit-for-tat. "But I want to be sure I'm not going to smell like one of your friend Trey's filters."

There was silence behind him, and Alan closed his closet door. _I guess this is as good a time as any to drop my bombshell._ He turned to lean up against the wardrobe, arms folded, staring at Lee. Finally, the older boy glanced his way, then turned back to his magazine while asking, "What's eating you, Tracy?"

Alan quietly took a deep breath and replied, "Dom Bertoli and I are going to see Belvedere on Monday during lunch to ask to switch rooms. That way Trey can smoke here without having to worry about aggravating Dom's asthma, you won't have to worry about me blabbing to the administration, and I don't have to put up with your friend's smoking."

During this little speech, Lee put down his magazine and got up, standing slowly and deliberately to his full height, the top of his head a good six inches above the younger boy. He leaned against the bunk bed, mimicking Alan's pose, folding his arms across his chest, all but daring the shorter, slimmer boy to defy him.

Alan kept himself very still, controlling his temper in an effort to control the situation, much as he had often seen his father do. _Man, he reminds me of Scott, when Scott's in his "big brother knows best" intimidation pose. Well, Sugi, I've been there, had that done, and by a **professional** , too. Didn't faze me then and doesn't faze me now. You just don't know **who** you're dealing with here. _

"So," Lee said in a soft, snide, and dangerous tone, "what do you plan on telling Belvedere? What reason are you going to give her for changing rooms?"

"The same one you'll give her on Tuesday when you and Mackenzie go to see her," Alan replied, his voice flat and cold. "Irreconcilable differences. Personality clashes."

Lee laughed, low and mocking. "Do you really think that she'll believe it? Believe it to the extent that she'll change our assignments right then and there? And what about your precious Hackenbacker? I thought you were going to try to move back in with him?" He closed in on Alan, hands spread now, a wide-eyed sneer on his face as he shook his head slowly back and forth. "It won't work, Tracy."

Alan raised an eyebrow and unfolded his arms, pressing his hands against the wood of the closet door, trying to stay in control even though his instincts told him to press the confrontation. However, his voice betrayed his anger; he was seething inside, and he gritted his teeth as he snarled, "Leave Fermat out of this! And it _will_ work—if all four of us go. She can't say no if we're all requesting transfers."

"And what if Trey and I won't go?" Lee asked, his own voice biting as he stared down at Alan, crowding into the younger teen's personal space to do so. "What then?"

Hard blue eyes met brown as Alan replied, in a tight voice that would have done his father proud, "Then _Dom_ will tell her the real reason. Belvedere will believe _him_. And Mackenzie will get tossed." Back in control, he put his hands into his pockets, a seemingly casual movement. "It would eliminate Dom's problem, and mine as well."

Lee stepped back, his eyes half-lidded. "No, Tracy. Oh, no. If that happens, your problems will have just _begun._ You and Bertoli will wish you had never set foot on campus this year; that I promise you. I will make your lives pure hell."

There was a heavy silence, and then Alan said, almost casually, "Give it your best shot. Dom and I are going Monday." He turned his back on his roommate in the small space Lee had left to him and slid to the left, opening his closet again to get at his night wear. He was aware of the older teen's pressing proximity, of Lee's breathing practically in his ear, then suddenly, his adversary backed off.

Lee's cold voice sent an uncomfortable tingle down Alan's spine. "So be it."


	15. Unanticipated Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fermat thinks fast. Sugi makes a pre-emptive strike. Fermat takes matters into his own hands, and the group makes plans. Thanks to Hobbeth for betareading.

Fermat gaped at his roommate for a moment. "Wh-What do you m-mean, lie to you?"

A.J. closed his book very deliberately and turned to confront the older boy. "I mean about the sports scores. It was an obvious lie to cover up what you were doing. So, why did you lie to me?"

_Oh, no. Hackenbacker, think fast!_ Fermat moistened his lips with his tongue. His mind cast back to another tight spot, inside the ventilation ducts over the command center, listening to the Hood gloat over Tin-Tin's father and her despair at being the niece of such a villain. Tin-Tin, with her pretty face, her long, black hair, her smooth, tanned skin... he blushed involuntarily and the answer came to him in a flash.

"Wellll," he began, "I'm s-sorry we l-l-lied to you, A.J. It's j-just that, well, the a-administration kinda frowns on wh-what we were d-doing. We d-didn't want to get into any t-t-trouble."

A.J. folded his arms. "What were you doing that was so bad? Looking at porn or something?"

"N-Not exactly," Fermat replied, nervously running a finger under his collar. "We were l-looking at... girls." He hastily corrected himself, "Women. We were l-looking at w-women."

His roommate gave him a disbelieving look. "What kind of women? I mean, you said it wasn't porn..."

"It's not!" Fermat's voice squeaked as he defended himself. "But we were l-looking at women--in sw-swimsuits, y'know. L-Lingerie catalogs. Victoria's Secret, th-that sort of th-thing."

Comprehension dawned on A.J. "You mean, like _Sports Illustrated's_ swimsuit issue?"

"Yeah," Fermat said, relieved. "Like th-that."

"But the swimsuit issue doesn't come out until the spring."

Now Fermat knew he was on solid ground. "Th-That's true, but it's sp-spring south of the e-equator, y'know. And the w-w-w... girls there are j-just as pr-pr-pr... hot."

"Oh! I see!" A.J. nodded. "I understand. I promise I won't tell..." Fermat mentally wiped a hand across his brow. "... on one condition."

"What's that?"

A.J. grinned. "The next time you look at those sites, you let me look, too."

Fermat got up from his chair, offering his hand to A.J., who took it. "D-Deal," he said, shaking hands once. He returned to his desk just in time to hear the warning for lights out. "Uh oh. B-Better get ready for bed."

* * *

Alan lay on his bed in the darkened room, his hands behind his head, wide awake. His mind sifted through the confrontation with Sugi, wondering how to head off any reprisals and hoping Dom could stay strong enough to see this through.

_I'm sure Belvedere will ask about Fermat and why I don't ask for a change with A.J._ He grimaced. _As much as it'd kill me to tell her that she was right, I'd have to. Not for Fermat's sake but for A.J.'s. She did the right thing putting those two together. I don't think A.J. would've made it with anyone else._

_But what do I tell Dad? I was so excited to have Sugi as a roommate at first; he seemed so cool, the big man on campus. Now I've seen another side to him and I don't like what I see. But Dad's right. I can't let him stomp all over me--and I won't. I'll call home tomorrow, talk to Dad, then Gords. I want to hear for myself he's okay._

He rolled over onto his side and his nose wrinkled up. _Ugh. My pillow smells. Sugi didn't do a very good job with all those sprays and our laundry isn't picked up until Tuesday. I'll see what I can do about the smell in the meantime. I wonder if Dom has talked to Trey yet. I hope so. I hope Trey will think this is a good idea. Maybe with three of us against him, Sugi will give in._

It took some time but Alan's mind eventually stopped whirling and he dozed off. His dreams were filled with smoke and flame and the mocking voice of his roommate breathing unintelligible threats as Alan choked on the poisonous atmosphere.

* * *

Sunday morning breakfast was usually cereal and milk or juice. Most boys slept in and skipped it. Those who wanted to attend church services usually ate in the dining hall and, today, so did Fermat. He dressed casually so no one would think he was going to church and picked up his dose of painkiller on the way to breakfast.

He managed to balance his tray on his way to the nearly empty dining room, glad for the sealed individual servings. He sat at an empty table because, even for Sunday, he was early; only a few other boys occupied the echoing chamber.

Opening the cereal and a carton of milk proved to be a challenge, but not as difficult as Fermat had feared. The juice and second carton of milk were easy; all he had to do was poke a straw through the hole near the top. He settled down to eat when Dom Bertoli came out of the serving area and looked around. He tried to signal to the older boy, but his mouth was full of cereal. Before he could clear his mouth, Dom had been scooped up by Lee Sugimoto and the two of them sat at a table halfway across the room. He wanted to join them, seeing as they were the only people around he knew, but he didn't want to try dragging his tray over and possibly spilling what he had in his bowl. So he set himself to eating and getting out as quickly as he could.

Every so often, he would glance over to the two, who seemed to be having a spirited conversation. Fermat couldn't see Lee's face, but he could see Dom's. The yearbook editor frowned, then shook his head at first. Fermat went back to his food for a moment and when he looked up again, Dom seemed pale. An expression of concern mixed with fear had crossed his face.

_Wonder what that's all about?_

He took the last bite of his cereal, wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, and piled his trash on one side of his tray. Moving carefully, he maneuvered the tray up to the disposal units, dealt with the dishes, swept the trash off into the can, and handed the tray to the bored cafeteria worker who stood there. He turned, almost running right into Lee Sugimoto, who was behind him in line.

"Hey, Hackenbacker," Lee said, his voice holding a touch of sarcasm. "Where's your _special friend_ , Tracy?"

Not liking Lee's tone, Fermat responded, "You'd kn-know better than I w-would. You're his r-r-r... you live w-with him."

"Ah, yes," Lee said. "But you were supposed to, weren't you?"

"Yeah. So wh-what?" Fermat responded, raising his chin and glaring at the older boy through his spectacles.

"I have to wonder what the _real_ reason was behind Belvedere splitting you two up," Lee sneered. He handed his tray to the bored young man with the white apron and the paper hair cover. "Thanks, Pierce."

"Why is it any of y-your b-business anyway?" the younger boy asked.

Lee leaned down, his face close to Fermat's. "Because I don't want your _special friend_ making any moves on me."

Fermat's face went white as the implications of the athlete's veiled insult and accusation hit home. It rendered him speechless, gulping air like a fish. Lee laughed as he left the stunned teen behind.

It took a few moments for Fermat to recover his wits. "That d-damned son-of-a-b-b-b... that b-bastard!" he muttered, scowling. "That's g-got to be wh-what Alan was t-talking about y-yesterday."

He took a few purposeful strides toward the athlete, who had gathered a few of his classmates around him just before he got to the exit. But before he could get very far, someone grabbed him his shoulder from behind. Fermat whirled, his face furious, dropping instinctively into the defensive half-crouch that Scott had been drilling into him all summer. His assailant took a step back in alarm. Fermat relaxed as he recognized Dom Bertoli. The older boy still looked pale and his eyes followed Lee as the latter finally left the building.

"Listen, Hackenbacker," Dom said, his voice low and slightly shaky. "If you see Tracy today, tell him I need to talk to him right away, okay? It's really important."

"Sure, D-Dom," Fermat said. He cocked his head. "Are y-you okay? I s-saw you talking with... S-Sugimoto. You s-seemed upset."

Dom sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm not okay."

"Wh-What did he s-say to you?"

"I'm not telling you. Just Tracy, you got that? Tell him it's important." Dom swallowed heavily and pushed past Fermat. "I've got to get out of here."

"Hey, D-Dom, wait!" Fermat hurried, moving quickly in Dom's wake. "What's going on?"

But Dom wouldn't wait; he moved faster than Fermat expected for an asthmatic and was out the door and down the front steps before the younger boy could catch him.

Fermat stood on the top of the dining hall steps and watched Dom leave. He shook his head, then remembered Sugi's words and shuddered.

_Time to get Alan out of bed. And not only Alan but the rest of the guys._

* * *

Alan woke to the sound of a buzzer going off. _Late!_ he thought fuzzily. _I'm going to be late for class!_ He reached for his alarm clock and hit it, but the buzzing wouldn't stop. It finally dawned on him what was wrong; the noise didn't sound like his alarm. _It's Sunday._

"Alan! W-Wake up!" came Fermat's muffled voice from outside.

"What's he doing here so early... oh." Alan looked at his clock, really looked at it, and realized it was after ten. "Come in, Fermat!" he called, his voice still rusty from sleep.

"F-Finally!" The door's lock snicked open, the panel slid aside, and Fermat came in, followed by Qaeshon, Jason, and Ralph.

Alan squinted at them from the top bunk. "What's going on?" he asked, still not quite awake.

"We need to talk, Pinky," Qaeshon said, folding his arms across his chest. "You'd better get dressed."

"Can I get a shower?" Alan asked, pulling back the covers. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped to the floor. Standing, he rubbed his eyes.

"Sure," Jason said, waving a hand. "Shower and get dressed. We'll be out in the common room waiting for you."

"Brain, you stay here, okay?" Qaeshon said. "Make sure Pinky comes right out when he's done."

"S-Sure." Fermat plopped down in Alan's desk chair, preparing to wait for his friend.

"C'mon, let's go," Ralph said, nudging his roommate. The three retired to the common room, leaving the two friends alone.

"So, what's this all about, Fermat?" Alan asked as he pulled clean clothes from his drawers.

"Y-You'll find out when w-we talk as a gr-group," Fermat replied.

Alan frowned at his friend. "This isn't like you, Fermat."

"I kn-know," the younger boy said, nodding. "I have my r-reasons."

"Oookay," Alan drawled as he headed for the shower. "Be out soon."

The hot water washed the rest of his grogginess away. The shampoo washed away the smell of cigarette--imagined or not--his hair had picked up from his pillow. He took his time, tousling his hair before wrapping his towel around his waist and entering the cooler, drier air of the bedroom.

Fermat turned to him, startled. Alan was surprised to see him blush and turn away. "G-Get dressed quickly."

"Fermat, what the hell is the matter?" Alan pressed as he pulled on his briefs. The snap of elastic waistband made the dark-haired boy jump a little. Alan put a hand out to turn Fermat around.

But Fermat shrugged it off. "Just g-g-g... put your c-clothes on, Alan."

"What is with you?" Alan asked again as he pulled on his jeans. "What's happened?"

"I'll t-tell you wh-when you're d-dressed and we're out of h-h-here," Fermat promised.

Alan quickly finished dressing and ran a comb through his blond hair. "Okay, I'm done. Now what?"

"G-Get your j-jacket. It's still c-c-cool out," Fermat ordered as he got up and headed for the door.

They left the room, Alan locking the door behind him. Fermat led the way to the common room where Qaeshon waited for them. "I sent Ralph out to find Dom and Jason said he thought A.J. should be in on this, too. He's gone to Maplewood to bring the kid along. They'll meet us behind the courts."

"G-Good. Let's g-g-go," was all that Fermat replied.

Alan shot a questioning look at Qaeshon, who shook his head slowly. "Not here, Pinky. And not until everyone is together."

"That bad?"

Qaeshon nodded. "Yeah."

Alan put his hands in his pockets and followed his old roommate as the latter walked briskly toward the outdoor tennis and basketball courts. Waiting for them there was Jason, with a panting A.J.

"Where's R-Ralph?" Fermat asked.

Jason looked over the shoulders of the newcomers and pointed. "Here he comes. Looks like he found Dom, too."

"G-Good," Fermat called. "Over here!"

He and Alan led the way into the woods that edged the outer boundaries of the Wharton campus. Somewhere in the forest was a barbed wire fence that was posted, "No Trespassing" but anything within that fence was considered Wharton property. The boys walked along, Fermat setting a quick pace, while A.J. brought up the rear, looking around at the pines towering over his head.

At last, they came to a small clearing that was ringed with pines but had once held some mighty oaks. Some oak stumps remained, wide and short. A couple of smaller trunks--either fallen where they stood or dragged there by past generations of Wharton students--made natural benches. An old firepit had been dug in the center of the clearing; it still saw use from time to time. The clearing was known only as "The Hollow". It was a place the young men of Wharton went to be alone or have some fun that the administration frowned on, as evidenced by the occasional hidden beer bottle and the half-buried cigarette butts. The academy's powers-that-be knew of the Hollow. They would sometimes send security out to see what was going on, but for the most part didn't concern themselves with the meeting place.

"Okay, Fermat," Alan said as his friend took up a seat on one of the logs. "Now that we're out here, _what the hell is going on_?"

Fermat looked up at him, brows knitted and mouth set. "Y-You tell me, A-Alan."

"I don't know what you mean," the blond retorted. "Kay says it's something bad..."

"It is," Fermat replied. "And I th-think it h-has something to d-do with those question you a-asked us y-y-y... Saturday." He stood up to pace. "I'll t-tell you what h-happened to m-me this m-m-morning and you e-explain to me _why_ it h-happened."

"I doubt I can, but knock yourself out." Alan sat down on a stump and waved for Fermat to begin.

The younger boy walked the length of the clearing, then turned to speak. He explained what had happened at breakfast and his meetings with both Lee Sugimoto and with Dom afterward. Alan glanced around; Dom was white and kept looking his way. A.J.'s jaw had dropped, but the other three boys were either nodding or impassive as Fermat recounted the tale. _They've heard this before,_ Alan concluded. _That's why they came with Fermat to get me. He told **them** first! _ His hands clenched into fists. _Who the hell does that bastard Sugi think he is, starting a rumor like that!? I told him to leave Fermat out of it! I will personally pound him into the ground!_

Fermat finished his tale and all eyes turned to Alan and Dom. "What's going on Dom? Pinky?" Qaeshon asked, glowering. "Sugimoto's not going to spread a rumor that Pinky and the Brain are gay without a reason."

"What did you do to get him that riled up?" Jason asked from where he sat. He glanced over at the yearbook editor. "And you, Dom? What did you do? You barely even know the guy."

Alan glanced over at his co-conspirator, who gazed back with a sick expression on his face. "Do we tell them?" Dom asked.

Alan's eyes moved around from person to person in the little group, then he shrugged. "I guess so." He scratched the back of his neck. "It all started early yesterday afternoon when I came back from the games room..."

As Alan told the story, he was gratified to see the faces on his friends grow angry at Sugi's treatment of him and over the threat the senior posed to both him and to Fermat.

"I'll stomp him into the grass," Ralph growled when Alan was through. "I don't care if he's the soccer team captain. He's going to get it and get it good during practice tomorrow."

"Th-That's not going to s-solve anything and m-might make things w-worse." Fermat took off his glasses, wiping them with a handkerchief. He turned to the other player in the drama. "Wh-What did he say to y-you, Dom?"

Dom shook his head, still pale. "He... He said he'd make my life hell and I'd wish those guys who beat me up had killed me. He said he would start a rumor that would make me lose my friends _and_ get me kicked off the yearbook staff if I went along with Tracy's plan or if I breathed a word about Trey's smoking habit." The dark-haired boy held up his palms as he shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? If my parents heard about it, they'd pull me from school." He shook his head. "They're a bit overprotective of me because of the asthma."

"So, what do we do now?" Jason asked. "We can't let Pinky and the Brain be smeared, or Dom either. Rumors like the one Sugi has already started are hard to stop."

"It doesn't help that you two were split up this year, either," Qaeshon groused. "Makes it look like something fishy's going on."

"But... but they're not, uh, that way," A.J. piped up. "I mean, they look at all those hot girls..."

"Hot girls?" Jason asked, quizzically.

"Hot girls?" Alan mouthed silently to Fermat.

Everyone else turned to look at A.J. in varying measures of surprise and, in Fermat's case, warning. He put a hand to his mouth. "Uh, oh," he said softly. Turning to Fermat, who was shaking his head and sighing. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean..."

Fermat waved a hand, irritated. "I kn-know you didn't m-mean it. J-Just... don't m-mention it again, huh?"

"So, you're interested in something other than the Thunderbirds?" Ralph asked Alan slyly. "Found out that life isn't all fast planes and spaceships?"

"Uh, yeah," Alan spluttered. He gave Fermat a look that said, "We'll talk about this later."

"So, back to the problem at hand," Jason said, nodding firmly. "What are we going to do about Sugi and his rumors?"

"Sugi's not the only big man on campus," Qaeshon said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Zave is, too. I'll tell him about this smear campaign. He'll believe me over Sugi."

"Yeah, but can you tell him without letting on _why_ Sugi's doing this?" Dom asked. "I mean, I'd rather not bring Trey's smoking up to the whole school."

"Did you talk to him about the room swap?" Alan asked.

Dom shook his head. "No, I didn't get a chance to. I feel sorry for him, y'know. Stuck with me and having to worry whether or not he's going to set off an attack or something."

"Hey, Dom, don't worry about that," Jason said. "Probably half the school already knows about it! It just hasn't reached the ears of the administration yet. And who knows how much of our scuttlebutt they believe anyway."

"I thought that if Trey could be convinced this was a good thing and the three of us ganged up on Sugi, he'd have to go along with it." Alan folded his arms, toeing the dirt with his sneaker.

"Uh uh," Ralph said, shaking his head. "All four parties have to agree unless there's a pressing need, like the smoking business. If you went to Ms. Belvedere and told her that Trey was smoking, he'd be expelled, and you'd probably have your room to yourself. But that wouldn't solve Pinky's problem, not since Sugi started this rumor."

"I wonder why he started it so soon?" A.J. piped up.

"Wh-What do you m-mean, A.J.?" Fermat asked.

"Well, he threatened to start a rumor _if_ Alan and Dom went to Ms. Belvedere, right?" The other boys nodded, so A.J. continued. "But that hasn't happened yet. So why did he start? He has to have some reason."

Alan dropped his arms, sitting down heavily on a log. "Maybe because I stood up to him. Maybe he wants me to know how serious he is about this." He rubbed his chin for a moment then said slowly, "He did say something about 'all my daddy's money' not being able to stop it." He glanced around at the group. "Do you think that could have something to do with it?"

Qaeshon shrugged. "Who knows? I mean, your dad is really rich, yeah, but you've never flaunted it."

"This is getting us nowhere," Jason complained. "What are we going to _do_ about Sugi? I mean, this rumor is going to catch all of us up in it, too, whether we like it or not."

There was a murmur of assent among the group, then Alan said, "I think one thing we have to do is for Dom and me to go through with this room change request. If we have to tell Belvedere about Trey's smoking, we will." He looked around at his friends. "I mean, we've already told you all. Any of you could mention it--"

"That's it!" Jason said, cutting off Alan's explanation. "An anonymous tip! One of us could tip off the administration to Trey's smoking!"

The boys all glanced uncomfortably at each other. "Who would do it?" Ralph asked. "And how would we prove it?"

Dom shook his head. "No, if it comes from me, the administration will believe. After all, I'm his roommate."

"Yeah, but what does that do about the rumor?" Ralph asked. "We need to stop it in its tracks."

"I think Zave can be of help. I'll figure out a way to tell him without involving Trey's habit," Qaeshon said.

"And the r-rest of us have to st-stick t-together," Fermat added. "If w-we let this b-break up our gr-group, then it will b-be like giving cr-cr-cr... like telling people the rumor is tr-true."

There was another uncomfortable silence, then Ralph asked hesitantly, "Uh, just for the record, Pinky, you and the Brain aren't--?"

"NO!" Alan and Fermat shouted in unison.

"Uh, I didn't think so," Ralph muttered as Jason slapped the back of his head.

"So, our plan is for Kay to tell Zave and maybe lighten up the impact of the rumor that way, while Pinky and Dom go through with their request," Jason said, ticking off the points on his fingers.

"And we stick together," A.J. reminded them.

"Right," Qaeshon answered.

"Would a counter-rumor help?" Ralph asked. "Something nasty about Sugi?"

Alan shook his head firmly. "I don't want to stoop to his level."

Fermat nodded, "I a-a-agree."

"Well, we can hold that in reserve as a plan B," Jason added. He looked around at their surroundings. "Hey, it's probably nearly lunchtime. We'd better get back."

"You guys go ahead," Alan said. "I need to talk to the Brain here."

Qaeshon frowned at them. "You sure? I mean, we just said we need to stick together."

"I know. We'll catch up," Alan promised.

"Okay, see you at lunch then," Ralph said as he and the others left the pair alone.

When they were out of earshot, Alan turned on Fermat with anger. "Why the hell did you go telling them about this before you told me?"

"B-Because if I d-didn't, you w-would have br-brushed me aside and t-told me nothing about wh-what was going on!" Fermat shot back. "After all, you d-didn't see f-fit to tell m-me _your_ plan! Y-Your f-f-f... your dad was g-going to go to b-bat for us so we c-could room together a-again! Now wh-what's going to h-happen to that? D-Don't you w-want to be my r-roommate again?"

Alan turned away from Fermat, folding his arms. "It has nothing to do with what I want or you want."

"Oh? How do you think that m-makes me feel? My b-best friend doesn't w-want to r-room with me anymore!"

The older boy dropped his arms and spun around to glare Fermat. "You don't get it, do you? Belvedere was right in putting you with A.J. and not with me."

Fermat exploded, flailing his one good arm around while trying to do the same with the casted one. "Wh-What the hell is that s-supposed to mean?"

The older boy spread his hands out and got close to his friend's face. "It means that _A.J._ needed you, dammit! He needed you or someone like you, to get him acclimated to life here. I want to be your roommate, yes, but it turns out that A.J. needs you more. Would you dump him on someone like Sugi just to room with me?"

This brought Fermat up short. "I s-suppose not." Fermat dropped his gaze, scowling. "B-But when were y-you going to tell me you th-thought it would be b-better for us to stay s-separate? And wh-when do you intend to t-t-t... inform your d-dad?"

Alan sighed. "I was going to talk to him this afternoon and I would have told you right after that."

"You should have t-told me what your p-plans were first," Fermat shot back. "After all, you'd a-already made the a-arrangements with D-Dom. If I'd known, I m-might have been m-more prepared for wh-what Sugi was t-trying to do."

"Okay, okay." Alan put up his hands in defense. "I agree. I should have told you before this. I was a little preoccupied WithGordon yesterday evening, y'know. But why did you go to Kay, Jase, and Ralph first? You should have come straight to me with what Sugi said to you."

"I w-went to them f-first because I kn-knew I would need their h-help to get the whole st-story out of you," the younger boy said, calming down. "Y-You would have r-refused to say anything if it h-had just been m-me c-coming to you. That old T-Tracy pride and self-r-reliance, y'know."

There was quiet between them, and then Alan sighed. "Am I that self-centered?"

Fermat looked at him steadily. "Sometimes. It's not as b-bad as it used to b-be."

It took a few moments, but Alan finally murmured, "I'm sorry, Fermat. I wasn't thinking of your feelings, just myself and my predicament."

"That's n-not quite true," Fermat replied with a sigh. "You were th-thinking of A.J.--and I w-wasn't. But I st-stand by my d-decision to t-tell the others. W-When Sugi started that r-rumor, they became j-just as involved as we were. And we n-need their help." He put a hand on Alan's shoulder. "You d-don't have to d-do this all by yourself, y'know."

"You're right. I would have tried to take care of it myself. I was _trying_ to take care of it myself and not thinking about our friends. But I didn't expect Sugi to start in so soon." He snorted a laugh. "At least this explains your weird behavior while I was getting dressed."

Fermat blushed. "I d-didn't want a-anyone in t-to think the r-rumor might be t-true."

The two boys started back to the main campus, walking single file down the narrow path. "What was that thing about the hot girls?" Alan asked.

"A.J. figured out we were l-lying to him a-about what we were l-looking at b-before he came in, and c-c-c... called me on it." Fermat shrugged. "It was the o-only thing I c-could think of."

"Great," Alan replied sourly. "Now _we_ could get in trouble with the administration."

Fermat smiled and shook his head. "I d-don't think so. He s-said he w-wouldn't tell if we l-let him look, too."

"Yeah, but he's already told."

The younger boy stopped in the path. Alan, realizing this, turned around to face him.

"Alan, I trust our friends," Fermat said, his stutter disappearing for once. "Do you?"

Alan thought for a moment, then huffed out a heavy breath, shrugging. "I guess I'm going to have to, aren't I?" He made a motion with his head toward the campus. "C'mon. I'm hungry."


End file.
